


In which I attempt to write more than one Christmas drabble

by tuppenny



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-05 04:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 23,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16803646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuppenny/pseuds/tuppenny
Summary: I mean I'd like to do one of these a day so it's like a story advent calendar, but let's be honest, I'm not going toI DID! I'm as shocked as you are.





	1. Growing Together series standalone, Jack/Kath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 23-month-old Theo is very excited about Christmas. Jack and Katherine are more interested in sleeping.

**December 1, 1914**

Jack was lying in bed, his arm draped over Katherine, whose long braid had fallen forward across her chest and was now hanging tantalizingly close to Jack’s face. He wanted to dip his head and tug it with his teeth, to wake her up in an absurdly childish way—or perhaps he could play it off as something sexy? There was just something in him that desperately wanted to pull her hair. Maybe it was some sort of suppressed schoolboy urge he’d never worked out of his system, not in a childhood where he’d left school well before girls became interesting to him. Maybe it was the devilish part of him that still liked to tease her, even after a decade of marriage. Maybe it was the way her gentle breaths made the flyaway curls of her hair flutter, begging him to touch and stroke and feel how wonderfully soft they were… 

Just as he bent his head, the bedroom door swung open, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet.

“Kimmis!” Theo yelled, throwing his arms up onto the bed and gripping fistfuls of the mattress so as to pull himself up. “May Kimmis, Mommy! May Kimmis, Daddy!”

Jack straightened up in disappointment as Katherine rolled over to face their youngest child. “G’morning, Bear,” she said sleepily, pulling him up against her.

“Kimmis, Mommy!” He laid still for half a second before wriggling away and crawling over her to tell Jack the news. “Kimmis, Daddy!” 

“It’s not Christmas yet, Theo-Bear,” Jack said, ruffling the child’s hair. “It’s just December.” 

“Kimmis!” Theo insisted, tugging Jack’s hand and then flopping back over Katherine to wake her up again. “Mommy come! Make Kimmis!” 

Katherine made sleepy noise of protest and then sighed, sat up, and headed towards the door. 

“Ellie had no idea about Christmas at his age,” Jack groaned, lamenting the loss of his wife and her warmth.

“The tragedy of having more than one child,” Katherine quipped, bending down to put on her slippers. 

“He’s gonna be real disappointed when there aren’t any p-r-e-s-u-n-t-s in the living room."

“He’s just excited about the Advent Calendar,” Katherine said. “He gets to open the first door because he’s the youngest. Ellie’s been talking it up to him for weeks.”

“Ohhhh,” Jack said, and then grunted slightly as Mitzi the cat jumped onto the bed and walked across his ribcage. “Doesn’t he have to wait for the other two to wake up, though?”

“Yes,” Katherine said, already being pulled out of the room by a very insistent 23-month-old. “Wish me luck in distracting him until then,” she called from halfway down the hall.

“You’re gonna need it, that’s for sure,” Jack whisper-shouted back. He ran his fingers through Mitzi’s soft fur and chuckled as Theo’s singsong chant of “Kimmis! Kimmis! Kimmis now!” echoed down the hallway. He frowned as the chant grew unexpectedly louder, then tried not to laugh as he heard Katherine’s racing footsteps and frantic whispers of “Theo, no! Stop! Come back!”, followed by the bang of a door and Theo’s full-volume yell of “Wake up, Ewwy! Wake up, Icky! Kimmis!”

“Shoot,” Katherine muttered. “There goes my quiet morning.” 

Jack rolled over in bed, pulled Mitzi to his chest, and pretended to be asleep, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Ellie and Nicky wouldn’t immediately come bounce on the bed and use him as a makeshift jungle gym the way they usually did when they woke up. “You are by far my furriest, quietest, and most well-behaved child,” he whispered to his cat. “And if you go distract my other children, then I’ll make sure you get lots of Christmas presents.”

Mitzi’s answering chirp was drowned out by a happy yell from Ellie and Nicky. “Daddy!” They cried, and jumped onto the bed.

Jack sighed. “Well, you had your chance, Mitzi," he said, hearing his children scrambling across the sheets. "Guess it’s just cat food for you this year.” Mitzi, feeling the vibrations of two small children headed right towards her, scrabbled out of Jack's grip and raced from the room, while Jack braced himself for impact. “Oof!”


	2. Scars AU Standalone. Jack/Kath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's stressed, and Katherine doesn't understand why. Takes place seven months after they graduate from college.

**December 2, Present Day**

Katherine flung open the door of Jack’s apartment with a bang. “Honey, I’m home!”

“Don’t honey me,” Jack yelled back. “An’ this ain’t your home!”

“Details, schmetails,” Katherine said, waving her hand and plopping a bag of Chinese takeout on the coffee table. “Do you want wine or whiskey or what with this?”

“Beer,” Jack said, still focused on his drafting table. He added a few more lines to the sketch in front of him, frowned, and erased them again. Then he blinked and looked up. “Wait—why are you even here, anyway?”

“Because we haven’t been out to dinner in over a week,” Katherine called from the kitchen, pulling out utensils and drinks, “And I got tired of waiting for you to text me back about doing something tonight.” 

“Geez, girlie, you ever think maybe I didn’t respond ‘cause I was busy?” Jack asked, rolling his eyes and picking up his pencil sharpener.

“The day you are too busy for me is the day hell freezes over,” Katherine said airily, waltzing back into the room. Jack snorted, and Katherine began pulling lids off of takeout containers.

Jack kept working, and Katherine watched the food grow steadily colder. Several minutes later, she cleared her throat. “Um, Jack?” she said more tentatively, “I, uh, I can go if you need me to. I didn’t mean to bother you, I just assumed… I mean, my mistake, I should’ve…”

“Huh?” Jack raised his head and looked at her for the first time since she’d come in. “Oh! No, no, it’s cool, I hafta eat sometime. Forgot you was there is all.” 

Katherine raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Jack shrugged and plopped himself on the couch, reaching across her for the container of rice. “You know how I get.” 

“Well, yeah,” Katherine said, spearing a piece of baby corn. “But you’re only like this when you’re super stressed about work, and I didn’t know you had a big deadline coming up.”

“It’s not work,” Jack said, dipping a piece of his chicken into the unnatural-looking sweet and sour sauce and downing it in two bites.

Katherine grimaced at the sight. “Please don’t donate your body to science,” she said, pausing with a cube of tofu halfway to her mouth. “Your insides would frighten the poor med students. They’ll probably think you died of some contagious tropical disease, when really it’s just your terrible diet.”

“You bought the food,” Jack said, completely unfazed. “You coulda brought me somethin’ healthy.”

“Like you’d have eaten it,” Katherine retorted. Jack grinned. They ate in silence for a bit, listening to the sound of the sirens outside and the crunch of Katherine’s broccoli. After a while, she asked, “What’s got you so worked up, then, if it’s not your job?” 

“Christmas cards,” Jack said, slumping back against the couch cushions. “I’m startin’ two weeks later’n usual this year, an’ I ain’t sure I’m gonna finish on time.” 

Katherine shot him a disbelieving look. “Jack. It’s December _second_. Why are you already worried about Christmas cards?” 

“I usually start workin’ on ‘em the week of Thanksgiving,” Jack lamented, “But things were so busy that I just ain’t had the time. Normally I’m a third of the way through by now, an’ I’ve barely even gotten started!”

“How long does it take you to address an envelope?!”

“Address an— are you _kiddin’_ me, Kath? I _make_ my cards. All of ‘em.”

“Okay, but still,” Katherine said, setting her food aside, “It doesn’t take that long to whip off fifteen Christmas trees.”

“Fif—” Jack spluttered. “Lord above, Pulitzer, what kinda friendless, schlocky artist do ya think I am?”

Katherine rolled her eyes. “Explain it to me, then.” 

Jack straightened up and wagged his finger at her. “Ev’ry year I make about thirty Christmas cards f’r the boys an’… an’ a coupla other people. The kicker is that they’s personalized—each card is a picture of somethin’ the two of us have done together that year. Just plannin’ ‘em out takes me awhile, an’ then actually doin’ ‘em? Ages. Absolute ages, girlie. An’ before with school an’ now with my job, I don’t have a ton of free time, so I c’n do about one a day, but not much more’n that. Here, I’ll show ya…” He vaulted off the couch and padded over to his drafting table, unclipping a drying painting from a line hanging above the desk. He handed it gingerly to Katherine. “This one’s f’r Specs. It’s still drying, so be careful.”

Katherine nodded and looked down at the notecard in her hands, taking in the elaborate background details that Jack had put into a scene of two boys at an arcade. As she squinted closer, she could see that the boys were definitely Specs and Jack, and the arcade was a perfect replica of the one just a few blocks from Specs’ apartment. “Wow.” Katherine looked genuinely impressed, to Jack’s satisfaction. “This is amazing. I’m starting to understand why you’re so stressed.”

“Thanks,” Jack said, reclipping the miniature painting up on the line. “It’s a lotta work.” 

“You know, buttercup,” Katherine said kindly, patting the couch cushion next to her. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. The boys will understand.”

Jack glared. “They _like_ ‘em!”

“I’m sure they do!” Katherine backtracked hastily. “All I meant was that even though I’m sure they’d be sad not to get one, they’ll understand that you were busy with your new job and taking care of Romeo when he had the flu and—”

“No,” Jack said firmly. “You don’t understand. Back when Crutchie an’ I was in—” He broke off, bit his lips, and rolled his right shoulder. “Never mind. Point is, it’s tradition, an’ I’m not gonna break tradition just ‘cause I’m too lazy ta pull a few all-nighters.” 

“A few—” Katherine shook her head. “Fine. Whatever. It’s your call. But for heaven's sake, Jack, please remember to eat and sleep.” 

“Mmm,” Jack said, his mind already back to running through possible images to put on his Christmas cards. “Do you think dogs eat pudding?”

Katherine’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Mush an’ I went to the animal shelter a lot over the summer, an’ I wanna draw him an’ me havin’ Christmas dinner with alla the critters.” 

Katherine sighed. “I hate that that makes sense to me.” Jack laughed, and she began cleaning up the debris from dinner. “But they’re fictional dogs, Jack, so it really doesn’t matter.”

“I like my Christmas cards to be as realistic as possible,” Jack said loftily, “An’ I’m against poisonin’ any dogs, including fictional ones.”

“I'm sure pudding is fine,” Katherine said dryly. “Good night, Jack. Happy painting.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the blister on my index finger that I got while trying and failing to execute my plan for this year's Christmas cards. -_-
> 
> Do let me know if there's something you'd like to see in a future drabble!


	3. Crutchie & Jack, Canon Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack wants Crutchie to come ice skating with him and the boys. Crutchie isn't sold on the idea.

**December 3, 1898**

“C’mon, Crutchie!” Jack poked his head into the living room to see his friend perched alone on the couch. “We’s goin’ skatin’! Let’s go, lazybones!”

“I’s okay here, thanks,” Crutchie said, waving a piece of looped string at Jack. “Gonna learn how ta do Jacob’s Ladder t’day, maybe play some Cat’s Cradle.”

“Ya can’t play Cat’s Cradle by yourself,” Jack said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

“Well, just Jacob’s Ladder, then,” Crutchie said lightly, starting to thread the string in between his fingers and staring down at his hands. “Have fun, see ya later!”

“Gee, I didn’t know ya thought I was stupid,” Jack said, pushing off the jamb with his foot and striding over to Crutchie. 

“What? No,” Crutchie said, pretending to focus on his hands, which fell still as Jack approached. “I really wanna learn how ta do this trick.”

Jack frowned. “Don’t lie.”

“I ain’t!”

Jack snorted. “Yeah, like I’s gonna believe that hogwash. Ya know what I think is goin’ on, Crutch? I think you don’t wanna go skatin’.”

Crutchie threw the string down in disgust, his frustration spiking even higher as the lightweight string failed to make any sort of noise or look even the least bit impressive when it hit the ground. “Ooh, d’ya want a medal f’r figurin’ that out?” He snapped, looking up at Jack. “Takes a real genius ta realize the boy with the twisted leg don’t wanna go skatin’.”

Jack glared right back. “Hey now. I knows I ain’t no genius, but I ain’t an idiot, neither.”

“You asked me to go _skating_ ,” Crutchie pointed out. “That’s pretty dumb.”

“Not if we does it the way I wanna,” Jack said, his eyes dancing. 

Crutchie just stared.

“Seriously, kid. D’ya trust me?”

Crutchie narrowed his eyes, but he could feel his curiosity starting to get the best of him.

Jack held out his hand. “Well?”

“Yeah, okay,” Crutchie sighed, taking Jack’s hand and allowing himself to be helped off the couch. Then Crutchie quickly grabbed his cap, jammed his crutch under his armpit, and followed Jack to the front door of the lodging house. 

“Tah dah!” Jack said, waving his arm grandly at a rickety wooden chair at the bottom of the steps.

Crutchie looked at him skeptically. “An’ this is…?”

“Your skates!” Jack announced, bounding down the stairs to pick up the chair and flip it over. From this angle, Crutchie could see that the legs had been sawed down and that steel runners had been clumsily nailed to the bottom, one on each side.

Crutchie’s mouth fell open.

“Isn’t it great?” Jack gushed, setting the chair back upright. “You c’n use your stick ta push yaself along, or one of us c’n skate along behind ya, or if we finds a rope we c’n pull ya around, or if ya wants we c’n hold onto the arms an’ skate next ta ya…” Jack trailed off, taking in the expression on Crutchie’s face. “Is… Is this okay? I know it ain’t as good as skatin’ on your own two feet, but I thought that maybe…” Jack swallowed hard and shook his head, his face flushing as he looked at the chair. “Never mind. It was stupid. I’ll go toss it in the dump, Crutchie, an’ we don’t ever hafta talk ‘bout it again.” He hefted the chair into his arms and began to walk. 

“Wait!” Crutchie said. Jack paused. “It’s great, Jack.” 

Jack blinked, brightened, and set the chair down. “F’r serious?”

“Yeah,” Crutchie said. “I was just surprised. Skatin’ on my own two feet ain’t never gonna happen, an' at least this way I get ta go with you an’ the fellas ‘steada sittin’ at home twiddlin’ my thumbs.” 

“Literally,” Jack teased, thinking of the abandoned piece of string.

Crutchie grinned. “True.” He eyed the chair and the icy sidewalks for a moment and then said, “Hey, d’ya think ya could tow me ta the rink, chief?”

“You bet!” Jack jumped into action. “I sent the boys ahead ta claim some of the ice f’r hockey. They should be all set up by the time we get there.”

Crutchie’s eyes lit up. “Say, Jack?”

“Hmm?” 

“I think I’d make a pretty good goalie with this setup.” Crutchie was practically vibrating with hope. 

Jack let out a whoop and punched the air in excitement. “I was thinkin’ the same thing!” His smile shone like sun on snow as he helped Crutchie down the steps and into the makeshift sled chair. “You’s gonna be a heckuva hockey player, Crutch,” Jack said, starting off down the block. “I can’t _wait_ ta get ya in my starting lineup! I swear, Race is gonna wish he’d never been born with me as forward an’ you in goal; we’s gonna whup him so bad…”

Crutchie and Jack chattered nonstop on their way to the park, swapping ideas and drafting game strategies that made the most of the opportunities offered by Crutchie’s new chair. The other boys cheered when they arrived, and the starting lineups flooded onto the ice for the first match of the season in the (unofficial) Manhattan Newsies Hockey League. Albert pulled a puck out of his back pocket and tossed it into the approximate middle of the rink, while Jack and Race took their positions across from each other and promptly began trash talking. 

Crutchie ignored the two motormouths; he’d toss around his fair share of insults once the match got started, but for now he was just going to enjoy being out on the ice. “A real hockey game,” he breathed as he used his crutch to center himself in front of the goal. “Finally.” 


	4. Davey & Les, Canon Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Les has a brilliant idea. Davey isn't sure how to tell his brother that it's not so brilliant after all.

**December 4, 1899**

“David, how d’you spell reindeer?”

“R-e-i-n-d-e-e-r,” Davey said, not even looking up from his book. “Why?”

“I’m writin’ Santa to tell him where ta land when he brings my presents,” Les said blithely, too focused on his very important letter to see the dismay on Davey’s face. 

“Les…” Davey nudged Les under the table.

“What?”

Davey’s stomach sank at the innocence and excitement on Les’ face. Why did _he_ always have to be the one to break hard truths to Les? It wasn’t fair. _As if anything in this world is fair_ , Davey thought. _Just tell him. Gently._ Taking a deep breath, Davey exhaled and said, “Les, we don’t do Christmas.”

“I know,” Les said, brow furrowed. “So?”

“So, Santa comes for _Christmas.”_

Les rolled his eyes. “I _know_ , David. I’m not a baby. I’m _ten_.”

Davey’s worry about crushing Les’ spirit grew smaller at Les’ sass. “ _So,_ Santa isn’t bringing you any presents,” he explained. “And there won’t be any reindeer, either. You don’t need to write Santa a letter telling him how to do something he won’t ever do. ”

Les stuck out his tongue and lifted his hands up by his ears to waggle them at Davey.

“What are you—” Davey broke off as he felt Les kick his shin. “ _Meshuggeneh!”_ He reached out and flicked Les on the forehead.

 _“Dumkop!”_ Les yelped, and launched himself halfway across the table to steal Davey’s book. 

Davey scrabbled to retrieve the novel, not wanting Les to lose his page. _“Pisher!”_

Les smacked Davey’s hands. “You really think I think I’m gettin’ presents from Santa?” He asked, sliding the book onto his chair and promptly sitting on it. 

“Stop it! You’re going to break the spine!” Davey yelled, bolting up and trying to force Les off of the book. 

“I’m not askin’ Santa for presents for me, you _schlump!”_ Les began pushing Davey’s head backwards and poking his brother’s exposed neck in an attempt to get him to move away. “I’m askin’ him ta bring stuff ta the newsies!”

Davey paused. Unfortunately, he’d just shoved Les’ chair hard enough to topple his brother over sideways, and he watched guiltily as Les fell to the floor with a crash. “Sorry,” Davey said, graciously ignoring his book and helping Les up instead. “You what now?”

Les huffed and made a big show of smoothing out his clothing and brushing off nonexistent dirt. “The newsies celebrate Christmas,” he said slowly, as if explaining something to a child. “I’m askin’ Santa ta bring them presents an’ tellin’ him not ta land on the penthouse ‘cause Jack sleeps there a lot.” 

Davey felt his anger subside completely. “Oh, Les,” he said, his shoulders sinking. “I’m so sorry. I misunderstood you completely.”

“Yeah,” Les said loftily. “You did.” He pushed his chair upright and returned the book to Davey. “Look, David,” he said seriously, “I know you’re older’n I am an’ all, but I’m not a little kid anymore, okay? You’re not the only one in the family who knows stuff. You need to start givin’ me a little more credit.”

“You’re right,” Davey said, extending his hand. “I do. I apologize, and I promise that from now on I’ll try to do better.” 

They shook hands and returned to their seats, Les looking righteous and satisfied.

Davey’s problem still wasn’t solved, though, and so he decided to take a different tack. After ten minutes or so, by which time Les had started decorating the handmade envelope he was going to use to mail his letter, Davey spoke up. “So what’re you asking Santa to bring the boys?” 

Les shrugged. “Socks, mostly. I don’t really know what to get most of ‘em. I’m gettin’ Jack a sketchbook, though,” he said, enthused. “One of the fancy ones from the stationery shop we saw uptown when we went to visit Cousin Malka.” 

“That’s nice,” Davey said, and went back to his book, though his mind was whirring away. Les had moved on to drawing fake stamps on the envelope when Davey cleared his throat and said casually, “You know, Les, Jack and I were talking about Santa last Sunday.”

“Really?” Les said, his head jerking up. 

“Yeah,” Davey said, thumbing to the next page. “He was saying that they’re all expecting presents from Santa, which is nice, but that Santa’s presents aren’t really personal, you know? He and the boys all kind of miss the thoughtful gifts that they used to get from their folks and families who loved them.”

“And they don’t have families anymore,” Les said sadly, running a finger across his letter. 

“No,” Davey agreed. “So they don’t get homemade things the way they used to. Just stuff made by, uh… by… Santa’s… elves.” 

“Oh,” Les said, biting his lip. Davey pretended to be engrossed in his book as Les picked up his letter and read through it again, sneaking looks at Davey from time to time. Finally, he spoke. “Hey, David?” 

“Mhmm?”

“Maybe I… Maybe I’ll make the boys presents this year instead of askin’ Santa ta bring them more stuff.”

“Yeah?” Davey said, using his finger to mark his place.

Les’ voice was uncertain, but it grew stronger as he saw the encouraging look on Davey’s face. “Yeah… I mean, I know I’m not their real family, but I can definitely make them homemade stuff. If… if you’re sure that’s what they want.” 

Davey smiled. “I think that’s a great idea, Les. I think they’d like that a lot.”

“Really?” 

“Definitely.” 

Les brightened and leapt off his chair. “I know just what I’m gonna do, too! I’m gonna ask Mama to help me make handkerchiefs f’r the boys outta my blue shirt that’s too small for me—I can sew their initials on ‘em, maybe—‘cause they’re always sneezing everywhere. It’ll be great!”

Davey beamed. “Yeah. It’ll be so great, Leyzele.”

Les hopped up and down in excitement. “An’ then, David—then I’m gonna go to the library, pull the blank end pages outta all of the books, an’ make Jack the best sketchbook he’s ever seen!” 

Davey winced, but Les was too excited to notice. “Uh…” Davey sorted frantically through possible redirects for Les. “Don’t you, uh… don’t you think Jack might want a handkerchief instead?”

Les laughed. “You’re so funny, David. Jack wants a sketchbook!”

“Right,” Davey said weakly, watching Les rush off to find their mother and ask her about using the blue shirt. _Oh well,_ he thought, returning to his book. _One misguided idea at a time._


	5. Scars AU Standalone. Jack/Kath, Jack & Emmy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night out is spoiled when Jack objects to Emmy's attempt at a seasonally-inspired outfit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show in question is Mean Girls, but you don't have to know anything about the movie or the musical for this story to work.

**December 5**

“Emmaline Kelly Shepherd!” Jack roared. “What on _earth_ are you wearing?”

“A dress!” Emmy protested. “And my name’s not Emmaline. You just made that up!”

Jack glowered at her. “ _Emma_ don’t have enough syllables in it f’r me ta express my brotherly outrage an’ concern, so I added another. An’ good thing, too, ‘cause that is _not_ a dress.”

“Is too,” Emmy huffed. “It’s an inside joke—they wear dresses like this in the movie around Christmastime, so I thought it’d be a fun nod to the original, you know? Everyone at the show will get it.”

“Well, I don’t get it,” Jack said blackly, “An’ I don’t like it, neither. It’s cold, we’s gonna be out late, an’ I don’t see why ya wanna go out in public lookin’ like some sorta… some…” he waved his hand at her and spluttered. “Sexy Santa Claus!” 

“You can’t find your sister sexy, Jack,” Emmy said, folding her arms across her chest.

Jack clapped a hand over his eyes. “I did not say I found you sexy. Not once did I say that. Nuh uh. But,” he said, gesturing with his free hand while still keeping his eyes fully covered, “You are _dressin’_ sexy, Emmy, an’ you knows it. Please just… go put some real clothes on.” 

“These _are_ real clothes! Stop policing my body!”

“Po—” Jack threw his hands in the air and glared furiously at his sister. “You’s callin’ me a policeman? Are you serious right now?”

“Are _you?”_

“Yes!” Jack said. “Look, Emmy. They is a time an’ a place ta wear… whatever _that_ is. But a Broadway theater with your older brother an’ his wife ain’t it!” 

Emmy screeched and stamped her foot. “I’m an adult, Jack! Why don’t you ever treat me like one?! I grew up just fine without you—I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life now, either!” 

Jack’s face shuttered instantly. He strode to the table by the entryway and picked up a small envelope. “Here’s the tickets. Kath’s already got hers; she’ll just meet you there. See ya later.” 

Emmy blanched. “Jack, wait, I didn’t—” 

He held up his hand and walked away from her, vanishing into the room that he and Katherine used as their shared office space. Emmy swallowed hard as she heard him lock the door. Then she brushed at her nose, grabbed her coat, and went to catch the subway.

*

Katherine’s eyebrows rose as Emmy unbuttoned her heavy winter coat and handed it to the woman at the coat check. “So this is why Jack’s not coming, huh?”

Emmy nodded miserably.

“It’s, uh… quite the outfit,” Katherine ventured, handing Emmy back her purse.

“It’s a reference,” Emmy explained. “You know that scene in the movie?”

“I saw it like once, and that was when it first came out,” Katherine admitted. “I believe you that there’s some sort of Santa dress scene, but I don’t remember it.”

“I thought it would be something fun and holiday-y,” Emmy said, following Katherine down to the orchestra seats. “Obviously I was wrong.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Katherine said. “You seem to be getting quite a bit of attention from the audience. I think they like your dress a lot.”

Emmy brightened a little as she realized that Katherine was right; a fair number of people had spotted her in her skimpy dress and were flashing her smiles and thumbs up. A few people even took photos, which Emmy thought was creepy but also flattering, in a weird way. “I didn’t mean to upset him,” she said to Katherine as they settled into their seats. “I didn’t even mean what I said—at least not in the way that he took it. He just made me so mad—I’m old enough to decide what I wear and how appropriate or inappropriate it is! And it’s a _reference_ , so it doesn’t count as being sexy. Not for real, anyway.” 

“Well, the boys at the end of this row seem to disagree,” Katherine said lightly, “But I see what you mean, and I agree that you’re old enough to make your own clothing choices without anyone’s input or censorship.”

“Censorship!” Emmy said, eyes blazing. “That’s what it was.” 

“He was certainly out of line to tell you to change,” Katherine agreed. “But you do know why he reacted like that, right?” 

“Because he thinks I’m too young to wear anything that starts below my collarbone and ends above my knee,” Emmy grumbled. 

“No,” Katherine said, pulling a hardback book out of her bag and offering it to Emmy, who nodded in thanks and promptly sat on it. “He’s scared for you,” Katherine said simply. “He knows firsthand how awful men can be, and seeing you dressed in such an adult, feminine way reminds him that you’re out there every day facing hundreds of potential harassers, and he can’t do a thing to protect you from them.”

Emmy frowned. “That still doesn’t give him the right to tell me how to dress.”

“Of course not,” Katherine said. “It does make his response easier to understand, though, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Emmy admitted. “I guess he wasn’t slut-shaming me or anything like I thought he was… and maybe his motivations were good? But they came out all… mixed up.” 

“Higgledy-piggledy,” Katherine agreed. “He’s not always great with words.”

Emmy sighed. “Neither am I, which definitely didn’t help.”

“I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself, though,” Katherine said, turning her head to face Emmy. “Jack will be, too, once he’s cooled down.” 

“I just… I want him to take me seriously,” Emmy said, feeling the corners of her eyes begin to prickle. “I want him to be proud of me.”

“He takes you very seriously when he talks about you to everyone but you,” Katherine said. “Sometimes he spends so much time bragging about you to the boys that they have to tell him to knock it off.”

“Really?” Emmy flushed pink.

“You are a frequent topic of conversation in our apartment, Emmy,” Katherine said, smiling. “All good things, too.”

“Oh,” Emmy looked down at her lap and flipped absently through the pages of her Playbill. She wiped at her eyes. “I just… I wish he’d tell _me_ that.”

“If you tell him that's something you want, then I think he’ll make the effort,” Katherine said. “The issue is that he never got that sort of affirmation growing up, so he doesn’t usually think to do it for others. When he talks about them, sure, but to their faces, not so much. And I agree with you that it hurts, but it’s also not just you; he does it to everyone.”

“Huh.” Emmy frowned. “I guess I never really thought about it, because he brags about the boys all the time, but… yeah, it’s only when they’re not there, isn’t it?”

Katherine nodded. “I’m working on it with him, so he is a little better than he used to be, but, well, it’s just not how he shows love.” She shrugged and then tilted her head in thought. “You might have to meet him halfway on it, you know. I definitely get more compliments from him than I used to, but I’ve also been harping on him for _years.”_ She smiled and laid a hand on Emmy’s knee. “I’ve learned to take his drawings and gestures as compliments, too, and that helps a lot. Stuff like tonight—buying the tickets, organizing the evening, going to something he couldn’t care less about—he wouldn’t do that if he weren’t a big fan of yours. He loves you more than just about anyone else in the world,” she said, and Emmy noticed with relief that Katherine meant every word. “And he’s exceedingly proud of you.”

“Thanks, Kath,” Emmy said, wiping at her eyes. “That helps.”

“Anytime,” Katherine said. “And now,” she added briskly, “I’m going to make sure that my phone is off, because the last time I was at a show I put it on silent, and then there was a flash flood warning that apparently didn’t understand the meaning of the words 'silent mode.'” She fumbled in her purse and pulled out her cell, scowling at it. “Stupid phone.” 

*

Emmy figured she’d give Jack some time to cool off before trying to mend things. If she were being honest, then she'd have to admit that she needed a little more time, too, even after her helpful talk with Katherine. 

And so she was quite surprised when she responded to a knock on the door of her parents’ brownstone to find a deliveryman holding out a rush delivery package from her big brother.

“Sign here, please,” the man said, and Emmy obliged.

She slit the package open carefully, peeling back the box’s cardboard flaps to see a red Santa hat and a small envelope. Inside the envelope was another pair of tickets to the show she’d seen two days ago, along with a note that said: _To match your dress._ She grinned and pulled out her phone, blinking back tears so she could make sure she hit the right keys.

_Meet you at the theater._


	6. Canon Era, Jack & Medda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack learns about St. Nicholas' Day traditions in a haphazard, last-minute way.

**December 5, 1898**

As the last newsie to tuck in for the night, it was Jack’s job to sweep the Lodging House and make sure there was nothing amiss. Good thing he’d done it, too, because as he was checking the downstairs, he saw a single tiny boot sitting by the door. Someone would want that in the morning, he was sure, and by returning it to its owner now, he could spare them all from experiencing the screaming, crying, panicked meltdown that always happened when one of the younger kids misplaced something important. 

“Heya boys,” he said softly, opening the door to the little kids’ bedroom, where he could hear the boys still whispering as they settled down to sleep. “Who’s missin’ a boot? I found it by the door.”

Everyone sat right up to look—good boots were essential, especially in winter. Misplacing them was practically unheard of.

“That’s mine!” Said Puddles, springing out of bed. “I put it there on purpose, Jack,” he said resentfully. “Why’d ya hafta move it? Now I gots ta go down alla them stairs again ta put it back where it’s s’posed ta be.”

“Your boot is s’posed ta be with you, Puddles,” Jack admonished. “Ya don’t wanna lose your boots!”

“I ain’t gonna lose ‘em,” Puddles huffed. “This one’s just down there so Saint Nick’las c’n put a present in ‘em t’night!” 

“What?” Jack said, bending close and cupping a hand around his ear. “Say that again? You think someone’s gonna put a present in yer nasty ol’ shoe?” 

Puddles made an offended noise. “I cleaned it soon’s I got back!” He hugged his boot to his chest and stepped around Jack to move to the door. 

“Hold it right there, buster,” Jack said sternly. “I need more of an explanation than what I got so far.”

Puddles heaved a long-suffering sigh. “T’morrow’s December 6th, Saint Nicholas’ Day,” he said, as if this were common knowledge. Maybe it was common knowledge for the more observant kids, but Jack didn’t count himself among that number. “An’ on Saint Nicholas’ Day, Saint Nicholas comes an’ leaves good kids gifts in they shoes as a reward for behavin’. _But,”_ he said, trying to squirm out of Jack’s grip, “He does it only if the shoes is by the door where he c’n find ‘em. So lemme go, okay? I gotta go put this back downstairs.”

“Hey, Puddles,” Switch called from a bottom bunk. “Is that true? Alla what ya just said?”

“ ‘Course it is!” Puddles said. “Saint Nicholas brings me somethin’ every year.”

“Does he come ta lodging houses, though? He might just go ta kids with families,” Bubbles said wistfully.

“Naw,” Puddles scoffed. “He comes f’r _all_ good kids. He’s a Saint,” Puddles reminded them, “An’ Saints care about ev’ryone, whether they got folks or not.”

“Well, you don’t know that, Puddles,” Jack said quickly, seeing a way to nip this in the bud. “This is your first year without folks.”

Puddles scowled and hugged his boot even tighter. “I _do_ know that, Jack,” he said fiercely. “It don’t matter if ya got folks or not—Saint Nicholas remembers the all the good kids. _All_ of ‘em.” 

Jack pressed a fist to his forehead at the excited murmuring that was sweeping through the bedroom and groaned outright as, one after another, they scrambled out of bed, grabbed one of their boots, and clattered downstairs to put them by the front door.

“Okay!” He yelled down the stairs. “Back in bed! Let’s go, let’s go!” He clapped his hands to hurry them along, and they came obediently back, thundering up the stairs with an enthusiasm found only in very young children expecting presents. As soon as Jack had finished tucking them all back in, he gave them a serious look. “Alright now, fellas—ya gotta stay in bed all night or Saint Nick won’t come, ya hear? Good kids don't pop outta their beds at night, no matter how excited they is. Got that?”

He shut the door to a chorus of yeses and then slid down to the floor, palms pressed against his temples. How the heck was he supposed to come up with presents for twenty-five small boys on such short notice? He shook his head and fished through his pockets to see how many pennies he had. One, two, three, four… nope. There weren’t nearly enough for each kid. Oh well; even if he’d had enough pennies, he’d need most of them for papes tomorrow, anyway. Pennies weren't going to do it. 

Well, if pennies weren’t a solution, what other options did he have? He quickly ruled out the idea of filching odds and ends from various merchants—he stole for necessities that he couldn’t afford, not for dumb holiday traditions that made people spend money they didn’t have. And he couldn't have spent money he didn't have even if he'd wanted to; the stores weren’t open, and they wouldn't be until well after the morning bell rang.

Frowning, Jack trotted downstairs and slipped out into the night to see what he could scrounge up in the city. After wandering aimlessly for a while, he smacked his forehead and started walking with a purpose. It wasn’t long until he ended up at the finest theater establishment he’d ever set foot in: Medda’s.

He slipped in one of the back windows without any trouble and wove in and out of the steady stream of dancers and singers who were dashing to and fro, pulling costumes on and off, and hurrying to make their entrances. A couple of the girls, the ones who’d been there a while, paused to give him a wave or kiss his cheek or send him a flirtatious wink. He gave as good as he got, smiling brilliantly at each pretty face. He sighed, wishing he had time for a little bit more, maybe a quick fumble up on a dark catwalk, but… Medda. He had to find Medda. 

“Why, Jack Kelly! What are you doing here?” Medda’s usual booming voice was lowered to a booming whisper; they were close enough to the wings that anything else would carry out to the audience, and that simply wouldn’t do. Whatever Medda was or wasn’t—and there were rumors aplenty, that was for sure—there could be no doubt that she was a professional.

“I came ta ask if you had any odd jobs I might could do for ya t’night? I’ll take anything, Miss Medda, anything at all. I just need some extra pennies, is all. I’m a good worker, too, you know that—I’ll do a bang-up job f’r ya at whatever ya want, I promise.” 

“I know you would,” Medda said kindly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “But I don’t need a new backdrop in the middle of the night. Come back tomorrow as soon as you’re done selling and we can discuss things—I’m drafting a new show, and you can help me develop the sets.”

Jack grew a bit frantic. “No, no— sweeping, maybe? Hangin’ the girls’ costumes back up once they’s done f’r the night? Pickin’ up trash the audience leaves behind? Tossin' out the beer bottles? I’ll do whatever, Miss Medda—it just has ta be t’night!” 

Medda’s brows drew together. “Why, Jack— are you in trouble?” 

“Yes!” Jack said, almost too loudly. “I gots twenty-five li’l boys what thinks Saint Nick is bringin’ ‘em presents f’r their shoes t’morrow morning, an’ I ain’t got nothin’ ta give ‘em!”

“Presents for shoes?” Medda asked, her right eyebrow up by her hairline. “You’ve lost me there.” 

“I don’t get how it works, either,” Jack said. “All’s I know is if I don’t put somethin’ in the little kids’ boots by mornin', they’s gonna be real disappointed. Puddles ‘specially, an’ you know he’s had a hard year.”

“He has, hasn’t he,” Medda mused. “Hmm.” She pulled a toffee out of her dress pocket, unwrapped it, and chewed it thoughtfully. “Want one? I’ve got a whole bag.” Jack shook his head, too worked up to eat. Medda stood in silence while the singer onstage finished her song, and Jack felt himself growing older and grayer by the second. 

“Please, Miss Medda?” He begged. “Please?” 

She pulled out another toffee. “Wellllll, how about I give you an advance on the set design help that you’ll give me tomorrow? I can't pay you what you’re worth, of course, but I can give you enough to slip a penny in each of those boys’ shoes.”

“I can’t take your money without doin’ a thing for ya!” Jack objected. 

“You’ll work it off tomorrow,” Medda said. “I know you’ll show up; it’s fine.”

“But you don’t know that what I do will end up bein' worth the money you’s already paid me!”

“Jack,” Medda said kindly, “If I'm not worried about that, then you shouldn’t be, either. I’m sure you’ll be worth every penny I pay you—more than what I pay you, even.”

“I can’t do it,” Jack said, shaking his head rapidly back and forth. “I can’t take your money an’ not give ya nothin’ in return. Nuh uh. It ain’t right.”

“Come on now,” Medda said. “You’ll have earned it by tomorrow afternoon. It’s fine. Just a twenty-hour advance.”

“Givin’ you set advice ain’t worth no twenty-five cents,” Jack said. “I’d do it f’r free. I can’t charge ya just ‘cause it’s convenient f’r me this one time.”

“Well, I’m telling you it won’t bother me one bit,” Medda said. 

“An’ I’m tellin’ you I can’t do it. I _won’t,”_ Jack said mulishly. 

Medda sighed. “I won’t have any odd jobs for you until the show’s over, and that’d be a real late night for you, honey.” 

“That’s fine,” Jack said, his jaw set.

“We’re talkin’ two, three in the morning,” Medda said gently. 

Jack’s eyes widened and he sucked in a quick breath. Then he rapidly schooled his face into its usual cocky grin. “Sure thing, Miss Medda. Not a problem. Night owl is my middle name. Dontcha know all the fun stuff happens once mosta the city’s asleep?” 

“Alright, then,” Medda said. “Here’s what I’ll need you to do…”

*

**December 6, 1898**

“Jack!” Crutchie said, shaking his friend awake. “Jack, get up! You’s overslept, an’ I thinks someone’s murderin’ the little’uns!”

“Hnnngh,” Jack said, rolling over and pulling his pillow over his head. There was a brief pause, and then he shot out of bed. “Someone’s _what?”_

“They’s all screamin’ like banshees!” Crutchie said, tugging Jack’s arm. “Go help!”

Jack flew down the stairs so fast that it was a miracle he didn’t trip and fall. “What’s wrong! Who’s hurt! Where’s the fire!” He yelled, bursting into the living room at top speed. 

“Saint Nick'las came!” Puddles squealed, dashing over from the opposite side of the room and holding his battered shoe out for Jack’s inspection. “Look, Jack! He came, he came! He came, just like I said he would! An' he brought me a whole _penny_ , Jack! An’ a piece of toffee, too!” 

Jack heaved a sigh of relief and felt his adrenaline start to subside. “Well, wouldja look at that,” he said, ruffling the little boy’s hair and, at Puddles’ insistence, crouching down to peer into the shoe. “Looks like you were right after all, Pud. Ain't that somethin'.”

“I toldja so,” Puddles said triumphantly, pulling out the penny and waving it in Jack’s face. “I told ya Saint Nicholas remembers all the good kids, I _told_ ya—and look, he did!”

“He did indeed,” Jack said, smiling fondly. “You squirts are the best kids in Manhattan, an’ he remembered ev’ry single one of ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming in just under the wire with this one, but I made it! Boy I hope I figure out a way to make tomorrow's story shorter... Oof. I have to say, I don't know how some of you guys write such brilliant, concise stories. I'm super impressed by it, because I just can't seem to get anything to wrap itself up in a way that even moderately approximates brevity. Aaaaaand this end note is proof of that. OH WELL.


	7. Growing Together series standalone, Jack/Kath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buying Christmas presents for baby Ellie is dangerously fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Em asked for Ellie's first Christmas, so here it is!

**December 7, 1909**

After a long day at home with Eleanor, Katherine had finally put the baby down and was ready to sleep as long as she possibly could. It likely wouldn't be long at all, seeing as Ellie had yet to learn how to sleep through the night, but even a couple of hours would help. And so Katherine headed into her bedroom, where she promptly tripped over a pile of shopping bags. “Oh my gosh, Jack!” She complained, stomping into the living room. “Are all of these bags just Christmas presents for Ellie?” Jack looked up from his drafting table, a guilty expression on his face. “They are, aren’t they,” she said flatly, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “How many things have you already bought her, huh?”

“It’s her first Christmas!” Jack protested, neatly dodging the question. “I want it to be perfect!”

“She is 8 ½ months old, Jack. She’s only just discovered her own toes—she has no clue what Christmas is!” 

Jack pouted. “C’mon, Ace.”

Katherine stood firm.

“I just want her ta have what I never could,” he wheedled, knowing this would be a winning argument. “D’you know how many Christmases I had where I woke up to absolutely nothin’? No fam’ly, no tree, no gifts—no food, sometimes, even? I want life to be diff’rent f’r our Bunny, Kath. I want her ta always have what she needs—an’ a little bit extra on top of that.” 

“You’ve already bought more than just a little bit extra,” Katherine grumbled, but Jack could tell her heart wasn’t in it. She sighed, walked over to him, and kissed his forehead, smoothing her thumb across the dark circles under his eyes. “Alright, dear heart. I’m going to bed now. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

Jack nodded, and they kissed each other goodnight.

As Katherine was leaving the room, she added, “But could you please _try_ not to buy too much more for Ellie, love? Christmas is still over two weeks away; if you don’t pace yourself, we’re going to start 1910 buried under a pile of soft toys and tiny socks.”

“Baby socks are so cute, though,” Jack protested. Then, seeing the stern look on Katherine's face, he nodded. “Okay, macushla. I’ll try.”

She smiled and blew him a kiss, and he returned to his work.

*

“Jack?” Katherine called, poking her head in the front door. “Are you there?” Hearing no response, she quickly picked up her overabundance of shopping bags and hurried to her bedroom, intent on hiding her purchases in the closet before Jack returned home with Eleanor. She had just tucked the first two bags behind the skirts of a long summer dress when she heard Jack clearing his throat behind her. 

“What’s all this, Ace?” He asked, trying and failing to keep the amusement from his voice.

Katherine spun around and grabbed a couple of the bags to her, as if trying to disguise just how many of them there were. "Jack! I thought you were out!"

"I was puttin' the baby down for a nap," he said, a mischievous smile playing around his lips. "Why? Was you lookin' ta hide somethin' from me?"

Katherine made some nonsense noises and started shoving the bags behind her. "I, uh, I..." 

Jack laid a hand on her arm to stop her, squeezing it gently. “Why, angel— surely these ain’t all for Eleanor?”

“What? What are you talking about?” She laughed nervously. “All of this? Just for Ellie?” 

“Uh huh. That’s what I thought,” Jack said smugly. “You know, Ace, she ain’t even nine months old yet. She’s got no idea what Christmas is.”

Katherine bit her lip.

“She ain’t gonna remember it, either,” Jack continued, folding his arms across his chest and raising an eyebrow. “An’ alla those bags from B. Altman’s? She’s gonna outgrow half of those clothes before she even gets a chance to wear ‘em.”

“I—I—I, um, I—” Katherine spluttered.

“Upp bup bup,” Jack said, holding up a hand. “I am prepared to overlook this incident, Mrs. Kelly, but on one condition.”

Katherine nodded rapidly. 

“You admit you was wrong.”

“Absolutely. You were right and I was wrong,” she said quickly, grabbing Jack's hands and holding them tightly. “Oh, Jack— I just have no self-control when it comes to Ellie! I thought I did, but then when I finally got a chance to go out today—thanks for that, by the way—I saw all of the window displays and just—I had to, Jack, I _had_ to!” She rifled through the nearest bag and pulled out a tiny holiday dress. “Just imagine how adorable she’s going to look in this!” She exclaimed, running her fingers over the crushed velvet skirt. “And I got shoes to go with it,” she gushed, “They’re precious, Jack, oh my goodness, just look at them—” She pressed a pair of miniature button-up boots into his hand, her face bright with excitement.

“They’s real cute, Ace,” Jack said kindly, then added with a wink, “Even though she’s nowhere close ta bein’ able ta walk.” 

“Oh, baby shoes aren’t supposed to be functional,” Katherine said, waving away his comment. “They’re just supposed to be cute.” 

“Well, they are,” Jack said, smiling. “We’re gonna have the best-dressed baby in all of New York.”

“We _are,”_ Katherine exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. “She’s going to be so scrumptious when she's all dolled up, Jack—we’ll have to make sure to get photos done!”

“All right, Ace,” He said, patting her on the back. “Sure thing. We c’n do that.”

Katherine kissed him on the cheek and then pulled away. “I’m truly sorry about the other day,” she said gravely. “I shouldn’t have criticized you. It was hypocritical and unnecessary. You should go ahead and buy Ellie as much as you want of whatever you want. We have the money, it makes you happy, and she is awfully fun to shop for.” 

“She really is,” Jack agreed. “Hey, didja see the stuffed animals they have at Arnold Constable?”

“Ooh, no,” she said, her eyes growing wide. “Shopping trip together next Saturday? We can leave Ellie with my mother.” 

“Perfect,” Jack said, grinning. “Can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1100 words-- this might be the shortest one of these yet! Haha. I'm just not made for brevity. 
> 
> The department stores are real, and although they're defunct now, they did exist in NYC back then. Both were pretty high-end places.


	8. Modern Era, Davey/Chaya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaya wants Davey to go with her to look at Christmas window displays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G asked for Punk!Davey + (Sad) Chaya, so here we are.

**December 8**

"Have you found a restaurant yet?" Davey asked, looking up from the book he was reading ( _Burning Down the Haus: Punk Rock, Revolution, and the Fall of the Berlin Wall_ ). "You've been on your phone a while."

"Hmm?" Chaya said, scratching her scalp and then putting her phone down to redo the ponytail bun she'd just ruined. When had she last washed her hair? It had been at least a week, judging by the feel of it, but it didn't have that two-week coarseness yet, so... maybe nine days? Ten? Thank goodness for curly hair; how did people with straight hair even _do_ it? How many hours a year did they lose to washing and drying and brushing?

"...restaurant," Davey said again, Chaya clocking in only once her own train of thought had ended. 

"Oh, right, no," she said, blinking. "Sorry. I, uh, I got distracted. I just can't seem to focus these days... Did I tell you I almost got hit by a semi over Thanksgiving break? Pulled right out in front of it. Didn't even think to look to the left before making my turn. Lucky for me the left lane was free... Could've been quite the headline otherwise." 

Davey winced and sat up to kiss her temple. "Please don't drive anywhere for a while." 

"We're in New York City," she reminded him. "I couldn't even if I wanted to." 

He nodded, relaxing slightly, and set his book aside. "So, food?"

"I was looking up lists of the top ten window displays in the city," she said, handing her phone to him. "Can we go?"

"Window displays?" Davey repeated, his eyebrows rising as he scrolled through the current list. "What, is the department giving you a double stipend this month? Because unless they are, I'm pretty sure we can't afford to buy anything at any of these places."

"Oh, we could probably buy a toothpick each," Chaya said. 

"But where will we put them?" Davey asked. "Toothpick holders at this place probably cost fifty bucks," he said, pointing to the store ranked seventh.

"Why would we put them anywhere?" Chaya said, feigning affront. "We'll wear them as jewelry, of course, to show everyone that we are wealthy socialite fashion mavens who refuse to use toothpicks from anywhere but the finest establishments."

"I could use a new ear bar," Davey mused. 

"So can we go?" Chaya asked again, looking hopeful. 

"Sure," David shrugged. "I still don't see why you want to-- it's cold and crowded on Fifth Avenue, and Rockefeller Center is absolute hell, but sure. As long as I get something to eat, I'm game." 

"Thank you," Chaya said, flinging her arms around him. "I don't want to go by myself, but I really want to go." 

"Okay," David said, tugging on his leather jacket and holding up Chaya's cranberry, double-breasted overcoat so that she could slip her arms right in.

David was right; it was cold and crowded, and Rockefeller Center was absolute hell, but Chaya enjoyed every moment, and Davey enjoyed her smile, which had been all too fleeting as of late. He also enjoyed that, for once, she was clinging to his arm and leaning into his touch without seeming the least bit uncomfortable about it. They went from store to store, admiring the artistic displays and sparkling lights. By the time they finished their tour and settled into a booth at a budget Chinese place, the cold had turned their skin pale and their cheeks rosy, which only accentuated the dark sparkle of Chaya's eyes. David found himself growing muzzy-headed as he looked at her looking at the menu, dazed in wonderment at how he could possibly have gotten so lucky. 

She caught him watching her, but to his relief she smiled, got up, and moved to sit next to him. "Mom always used to pick one night during Hanukkah and drive me and Becca around town to see the best Christmas light displays," Chaya said, leaning her head on David's shoulder. "We'd rebrand everything to fit Hanukkah, of course," she said, laughing.

"Oh, so I'm guessing you saw lots of Hanukkah bushes?" Davey said wryly. "Sarah, Les, and I spent years begging our parents to get one. They never gave in. Said Christmas trees were Christmas trees, no matter what you called them." He felt Chaya shaking with laughter, and he smiled. 

"My parents were the same way," Chaya said. "But Mom would play along with it for that one night. She said that it made sense to admire lights during the Festival of Lights, no matter if they were Christmas lights or not. So we'd admire people's Hanukkah bushes and snowmen and the cutouts of reindeer pulling the Rabbi of Chelm's menorah-delivery-device." Davey laughed, and Chaya nestled in a little closer. "Oh, and then we'd rank them all on how well they captured the true spirit of Hanukkah."

"What would that be? Latkes?" Davey joked. "Lame presents? Judah Maccabee? Miraculous oil?" 

"Any and all of the above," Chaya said, grinning. "We had to make allowances. It's not as if you're going to see a temple rededication scene all lit up on someone's front lawn."

"It does seem unlikely," Davey admitted. "I guess it'd be a Hanukkah miracle if you did."

She giggled. "An uninspiring one, but yes, probably so." 

"It sounds nice," David said, moving his arm to wrap it around her.

"It was," Chaya said. "But looking at window lights with you was nice, too. Different, but nice."

"We can do it again next year if you want," Davey offered, unthinking. The mild panic set in briefly afterwards; he hadn't meant to imply that he expected her to stay with him for a full year, he hadn't meant to lay the weight of that on her, he knew she didn't feel she could plan for the future and was taking things day by day and that thinking of the endless stream of time ahead of her --all of that time without her mother, all of that time feeling so alone-- made her want to cry, but it had slipped out.

To his relief, Chaya simply reached up to hold his hand in hers. "I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rereading to make sure this makes sense? Don't know her. TAKING BIG RISKS THIS HOLIDAY SEASON, KIDDOS
> 
> gosh I'm so tired
> 
> Joking that Christmas trees are 'Hanukkah bushes' is an actual thing, and Jewish kids will sometimes bug their parents about getting one. As far as I know, the success rate on that is fairly low. ;) 
> 
> I made up the Rabbi of Chelm + menorah delivery device for Santa and the sleigh, but Chelm is a city often used in Yiddish folklore-- there are lots of "Wise Men of Chelm" stories, and of course the wise men there (including the rabbi) are all fools. Some of these stories are quite funny. 
> 
> Hanukkah is the festival of lights; you can read up on the holiday yourself if you want to know more about the references to its meaning, history, and traditions. 
> 
> Enjoy!


	9. Canon Era, Platonic Newsboys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santa comes early to the Lodging House.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> politics_and_prose suggested a Christmas at the Lodging House story, so here it is!

**December 9, 1899**

Jack woke bright and early, as always. _Although,_ he reflected blearily, _this time of day ain't actually so bright_. He rubbed his eyes as he stood by the window, looking out over the ice and snow, and tugged his suspenders up over his shoulders. He was ready for spring, when he and the sun would rise together. That was still several months away, though, and in the meantime he and the boys would just have to suffer. Holy heck, he hated winter. They all did.

Jack breathed on his hands to warm them up, rubbed them together rapidly, and then stuck them under his armpits. Jiminy Christmas, it was freezing, and it had reached the point in December where the weather had slid from a gentle, teasing cold into something sharp and biting that chased the newsies no matter where they went, following them Uptown and Downtown, into the tenement slums and through the Financial District. Jack had fared reasonably well so far this winter --working in an office drawing illustrations for _The World_ had saved him from the worst of the miserable selling weather this December-- but he was worried about the other boys, the ones who'd seen Jack's star rise high while their own remained mired firmly in the muck. 

He shrugged his cleanest vest on over his second-best dress shirt and did up the buttons, cursing softly at how hard it was to move his fingers. He'd be able to warm them up at work, though, unlike Romeo, whose golden-brown fingers were always as pale as Jack's by the end of a full day selling papers in frigid weather. Jack was saving up for new gloves for the kid, but he didn't have enough yet for a quality pair, and he wasn't going to blow his savings on something cheap that'd just trap the cold in further. He wanted to buy Crutchie a good pair of long underwear, too, in hopes that a little extra wool would keep his brother's bum leg from acting up quite so badly. They'd tried stuffing Lodging House blankets down Crutchie's trousers, but that had failed miserably. It turned out that a pant-leg full of blankets just made it harder for the kid to move, and then by the time he'd reached the Circulation Office the raggedy blankets had all slid down to bunch by his ankle, anyway.

Failure all the way around, Jack thought angrily, finishing the buttons and reaching for his boots. He readjusted the newspaper he used to line his shoes and grew even more upset as he did so-- Mush's boots were so worn that the newspaper trick had stopped working. The kid had had to start knotting down the flapping leather of the toes with twine stolen from the butcher's; he looked like a clown, but it was the only way to get the boots to stay on his feet. Jack brushed his nose and shrugged on his jacket, feeling his fury settle heavily in his gut. It wasn't fair. All of this was awful, and none of it was fair, and he hated this city, and he hated everyone in it, and-- _just get to work, Jack,_ he reminded himself. _One fight at a time._

He trudged down the stairs, running his fingers through his hair before pulling his cap on and adjusting it just so. Race was in charge of waking the boys now; Jack had started to hand off some of the responsibilities of leadership, and this had been one of the first to go. He missed it occasionally, sure, but his hours didn't fit with theirs anymore, so this was how it had to be. It didn't make sense otherwise; today he had to be in early to work on a special holiday insert, and then on Sunday he didn't have to show until noon...

Jack paused as he passed the common room; he thought he'd seen a stack of boxes in there. It was just something he'd noticed out of the corner of his eye, a dark mass that wasn't usually there, but that couldn't possibly be the case. Could it? He pedaled backwards and peered in. _What the--_

The room was stacked with box after box, each of them wrapped in bright paper and gaudy bows, all of them boasting a large tag with a name written in sparkling, flowing script. _Albert, Henry, Elmer, JoJo_ , he read, running his finger over one label after another, marveling at the sheer number of them. Once he'd made his way around the room, he grinned. The circulation office wouldn't be open for another couple of hours, sure, but Jack decided it was time for the boys to get up. This was something they needed to see. 

"Crutchie! Racer! Albert! Specs!" He hollered up the stairs. "Get a move on, boys! They's somethin' down here you's gotta see!" Hearing only moans of complaint in response, Jack clattered up to the bedrooms and flung the doors open. "Let's go, let's go! C'mon, you layabeds! Santa came early!"

"What?" Crutchie mumbled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Santa ain't real, Jackie, what're you on about?"

"Santa?" Blink groaned, rolling onto his back. "How old d'ya think I am, five?"

Jack cuffed Blink on the ear and flicked Crutchie's forehead. "Oh ye of little faith," he teased. "Come on already! I don't got all day ta wait around for you doubtin' Thomases-- some of us gots ta head ta work, ya know."

Jack had more success in rousing the little ones, and their squeals of delight quickly accomplished what Jack could not, as, still grumbling, the older boys trooped down the stairs to investigate. Jack waited at the bottom of the stairs, watching the younger boys with one eye even as he heckled the older ones for their sluggishness. 

Soon the entire house was in an uproar as the full complement of boys was engaged in tossing boxes at each other, puzzling out the cursive lettering, tearing open wrapping paper, and shouting and laughing and crying and babbling about their unexpected gifts. 

"New boots!" Yelled Mush.

"Leather gloves!" Cried Romeo.

"Long underwear," Crutchie whispered, dazed. "An' a wool overcoat. Plus socks an' fur-lined boots..." he began to cry.

Jack hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead, rocking him until he calmed. " 'S okay, kid. 'S okay." 

Jack stayed a few minutes more to soak in the joy and excitement, and then he snuck out of the room and off to work. As soon as he arrived at _The World_ , he made a beeline for the office phone. "Katherine Plumber," he said, his voice thick. "You's an angel." 


	10. Canon Era, Platonic Newsboys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> politics_and_prose suggested the newsboys being snowed in. This isn't quite that, but it's close-ish? There is literally no plot or point to this one; it's just the boys being silly. I just couldn't come up with anything good that I wanted to write. Maybe tomorrow.

**December 10, 1899**

"Thank goodness Santa brung us alla those winter clothes yesterday," Albert said, pressing his nose up against the frosted window. "They's at least a foot of snow out there already, an' it's comin' down fast." 

"Yeah, so get your butt downstairs," Race said, smacking Albert's behind. "We ain't gonna be able ta sell at all this afternoon if this keeps up." 

Albert faked a punch to Race's stomach and then snatched the cap off Race's head as Race bent over to avoid the expected sock to the gut. "Dimwit," Albert cackled, running downstairs.

"Give that back!" Race yelled. "Just you wait, DaSilva, I'm gonna soak ya once I get my hands on ya, you dirty little sneak!" 

Albert paused just long enough to stick his tongue out at Race and make a rude noise, and then he disappeared into the snow. 

Race was about to dash after him, but one of the smaller newsies tugged sharply at his sleeve. "Mr. Race, c'n we have some hot choc'lit when we gets back ta the Lodge?" Gap-Tooth asked. 

Race frowned. "Where in the heck are we gonna get hot choc'lit, kid?" He softened, seeing the child's disappointment. "We c'n have some hot tea, maybe-- wouldja like that?"

Gap-Tooth brightened, his wide smile displaying all of his remaining teeth. "Yeah!" 

"Okay," Race said. "Now hurry up-- we gotta go sell some papes, else we ain't gonna make rent."

The snow continued to fall, making it a miserably cold and unprofitable selling day for nearly all of the newsies, but by the time they sold back their papers and trudged home late that evening, they were all in high spirits; word had spread that Race had promised tea, and the boys couldn't wait. 

"Lookit me, I'm the Queen of England!" Romeo announced, slapping a gift box ribbon on his head and holding his pinky out as he sipped at his mug of tea. "Bow ta me, peasants!" 

"Only person I'm bowin' to is my Lord an' Savior Jesus Christ," JoJo announced loftily, earning himself a shove from Sniper, who'd decided to join the boys for tea instead of heading directly to his father's laundry business.

"Is you a nun, JoJo?" Sniper asked. "No? Then stop actin' like it." 

JoJo huffed and sulked, sipping gingerly at his hot tea. "You ain't gotta be mean," he muttered.

Race laughed and shook JoJo's shoulder. "C'mon, Jo. Brush it off, yeah? Want some more tea?"

"You bet," JoJo said, brightening. 

"Bring the Queen some, too," Romeo called, pitching his voice higher and affecting a terrible English accent. "Her Royal Highness is nearly done with this mug an' wants another!"

"Her Royal Highness can get off Her Royal behind an' get her own tea!" Race hollered back. "Show some initiative, Vicki!"

"England's got a Queen?" Puddles asked, warming his hands on his mug. "I thought they had a Pres'dent like us." 

"Someone get these kids ta school," Finch groaned dramatically. "Next they's gonna tell me they thinks unicorns is real." 

"Whaddya mean, they ain't real?" Albert said. "I's pretty sure they's as real as you an' me, Finchy. Buttons saw one pullin' a carriage through Central Park just last week."

"That was just a horse wearin' somethin' ta keep its face warm," Finch said, dismissing Albert with a wave of his hand. "Ain't no such thing as unicorns."

"Well, I says there is," Albert said, glowering. 

"Nope," Finch said, his hand unconsciously slipping to his slingshot. 

"Yuh huh," Albert said, launching himself at Finch, and then the two boys were tussling, sending newsies shrieking out of the way, hot mugs of tea clutched in small hands. 

"What's goin' on here?" Jack boomed, bursting into the living room. "Santa won't bring ya nothin' f'r Christmas if ya behaves like this!" 

"Santa ain't--" Finch started, and Albert took advantage of the pause to stuff his dirty sock in Finch's mouth. 

"There," Albert said happily, sitting on Finch's chest and pinning the boy's arms to the ground. "I win. Unicorns is real."

Jack blinked and gave Albert a strange look. "Ooooo-kay. That is _not_ what I thoughtcha was gonna say." He shook his head and then returned his attention to the rest of the room, raising a red container above his head. "Hot chocolate, anyone? Secretary at work gave me a whole tin of the stuff, an' I can't possibly drink it all myself."

"I could," Gap-Tooth sighed longingly. 

Jack laughed. "You'd get sick. How 'bout just a mugful instead?"

Gap-Tooth nodded and followed Jack to the kitchen, where Race had already started boiling more water. 

"Best day ever," Gap-Tooth said, and Jack grinned. 

"Yup," said Albert, tipping Race's cap, which he was wearing at a jaunty angel, and slinging his arm around Finch, who had a sour look on his face and was scraping lint off his tongue. "I agree. Hand me another mug, Jack-- I gotta go feed my unicorn."


	11. Canon Era, Jack Kelly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets a Christmas bonus and has to decide how to spend it. 
> 
> Thanks to politics_and_prose for the prompt!

**December 11, 1899**

Jack clutched the envelope to his chest like his life depended on it. He'd taken off his gloves so that he could feel the cheap paper between his fingers, and every couple of blocks he'd pause to open it back up, run his fingers along the crisp bills, and seal the envelope once more. He liked to say that his heart skipped a beat the first time he saw Katherine, but that was a lie. The fourth or fifth time, maybe, but not the first. His heart had done backflips the instant he'd opened this envelope, though, and that was the honest truth.

_A full month's pay as a Christmas bonus..._ _And it ain't even Christmas yet!_

He tried to summon up some saliva to wet his mouth, which had gone dryer than a bone in summer. The things he could do with a sum like this... The art supplies he could purchase, the food he could eat... Heck, he could buy a round-trip ticket to Santa Fe and _still_ have money left over. He could buy something nice for Katherine instead of the handmade things he'd been planning as poor substitutes for real gifts, he could secretly pay Crutchie's rent all winter so the kid wouldn't have to struggle on slick streets just to keep a roof over his head, he could-- he ran smack dab into a Salvation Army bell-ringer, bowling the one-armed man right over. 

"I'm so sorry!" Jack said, scrambling to help the man up and locate the lost bell. 

" 'S okay, laddie, no harm done," the man said, brushing down his clothes and rewrapping his scarf. 

"Civil War?" Jack asked, nodding to the man's missing arm. 

"The Fighting 69th," the man said, taking the proffered bell and resuming his ringing. 

"Really?" Jack said, "I'm Irish myself. First generation American," he said proudly. "Or second, I guess, dependin' on how ya counts it... M'parents immigrated, but I was born here."

"Is that so? Well! Always pleased ta meet a fellow Irishman," the man said, holding out his hand for Jack to shake. 

"Thanks f'r all ya done f'r us," Jack said earnestly, gripping the man's hand tightly. "Growin' up I can't tell ya how many stories I heard about how hard things used ta be, an' how the 69th helped change alla that. Showed people we was real Americans, you did-- real American _heroes,_ too." 

The man gave Jack a nod. " 't ain't perfect yet, but things is better, that's f'r sure. An' with young men like you representin' our community ta the world, well, things is gonna keep gettin' better, too," he said, smiling. 

Jack met the man's eyes, his gaze solemn, and he said, "I'm gonna do my darndest, sir, I promise ya that." Then, struck by a sudden impulse, he reached into his envelope and rested his fingers on the bills. "Your organization here, the one ya got the bell for-- it helps people like us?"

"Sure does," the man said, nodding. "Helped wean me off the bottle an' find my way again. I owe 'em my life, I do." 

"Right, then," Jack said decisively, and withdrew a brand new twenty, stuffing it into the man's metal collection bucket. The man's eyes widened as he caught the number on the bill, and Jack clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing gently to reassure the man that yes, this was happening, and no, Jack wasn't going to take back his generous gift. After all, he had more than enough for himself and his friends, and spreading the wealth around a wider circle seemed the right thing to do. Jack cleared his throat and took a step backwards. "Thank you again, sir, an' Merry Christmas." 

"You, too, son," the man said, his eyes moist. "God bless." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Salvation Army is debatable in its current incarnation, and although I'm sure it was back then, too, it did exist back then, and it was involved in good work that helped groups of people who were societal outcasts and unlikely to receive aid or compassion from other quarters. 
> 
> Anti-Irish sentiment was alive and well at the turn of the century, and it was even worse prior to the Civil War. Both Catholics and Irish people were suspected of being disloyal and dangerous, and the Irish units that fought for the Union in the Civil War helped to change some of those perceptions.
> 
> The Fighting 69th is another name for the [69th Infantry Regiment of New York](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/69th_Infantry_Regiment_\(New_York\)), which is a heavily Irish unit. It is a real thing, and it still exists.
> 
> 600 words, folks! I can do short(ish) after all!


	12. Growing Together Series Standalone, Jack/Kath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine writes the family Christmas letter.

**December 12, 1906**

_Dear all,_

_This is the first time I am writing one of these, because until now I have never felt there was anything momentous to share about our little family of two. But now that our family has grown to include a baby_

"And a cat, Ace-- don't forget Mitzi!" 

"I'm not putting the cat in our Christmas letter, Jack."

"You darn well better-- she's just as much a part of this family as I am!"

"I would hardly say that."

"Well, **I** would."

_now that our family has grown to include a baby (and, as Jack wants me to inform you, a cat), I feel that_

"Tell 'em more about the cat, Ace-- she's got a name, ya know."

"Jack."

"An' she's fluffy an' cuddly."

**"Jack."**

"Come on, it's just a few extra words."

_now that our family has grown to include a baby (and, as Jack wants me to inform you, a fluffy, cuddly cat named Mitzi),_

"Yeah. That's better."

_I feel that we are ready to join in the time-honored American tradition of sending family Christmas letters._

"I still think you're making this whole thing up. I've never sent or received a Christmas letter in my life!"

"What are you talking about? We got plenty from other people last year."

"From your fancy family and rich friends."

"Don't be like that. Some of them are very nice!"

"Sure. But they're still fancy and rich."

_Our daughter, Eleanor Joy, was born this March, after what seemed to me an interminably long pregnancy. She was eighteen inches long and weighed seven pounds, two ounces, which seems hard to believe now that she's sixteen pounds and growing out of her clothes almost as soon as we buy them!_

_Eleanor is the light of our lives-- I never thought that I could love someone as much as I love her, but I do._

"Shh, Ace. It's okay. Here, use my handkerchief."

"Thanks, dear heart."

_Jack feels the same. Like all parents, we're convinced that our daughter is prenaturally talented. As evidence, I would like to submit the fact that I have never met a child who managed to wrap her father around her little finger as quickly as Eleanor did with Jack._

"Hey!"

"You know it's true."

"...yeah."

_She loves being read to, and, much to our chagrin, her first word was neither Mommy nor Daddy, but 'cat.'_

"Now ain't you glad you included Mitzi? People would think we were terrible parents otherwise."

"They still might."

"Aww. Her first word should've been 'Mommy,' an' we all know it."

"You're sweet. Kiss me."

_She is much more interested in talking, waking us up early, and blowing spit bubbles than she is in either crawling or walking, but we don't mind. After all, if she takes after her father, once she starts moving, she'll be impossible to keep up with!_

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"I'm just saying you're active! Nothing wrong with that."

"Hmm. Okay."

 _Jack and I are both well; Jack continues to work as an illustrator at_ The World _, where he draws a daily political cartoon in addition to creating pictures for advertisements and stories. He loves our daughter deeply, and, although she is only nine months old, it is clear that she adores him right back. Jack is still working for the Newsboys' Union and continues to inspire the workers of the city (and me) with his passion, determination, and hope for a better world._

"I'm a lucky man. Let me kiss you?"

"Please do."

_As for me, being a mother has had to take precedence over my work this year. I did publish one piece I'm particularly proud of, about the birthing experiences and conditions in different city hospitals, but most of my time is spent changing diapers, naming everything that Eleanor points at, and singing far too many unbelievably repetitive children's songs. It's certainly been a change_

"You don't have to say anything you don't mean, macushla. You're a good mother. No doubt in my mind. Even if you miss being a reporter and plan to go back full-time as soon as Ellie's old enough, you're still a good mother. The best."

_It's certainly been a change, but it's been a good one. I've loved having these early months with Eleanor and am very grateful that my work will be there waiting for me when Eleanor and I are ready for that._

"I think I gotta kiss you again."

"I'd like that."

_We hope that your holiday season is filled with love, laughter, and peace, and may the new year bring you blessings and contentment._

_All our love,_

_Jack, Katherine, and Eleanor Kelly_


	13. Canon Era, Jack/Kath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year and a half after the strike, Jack and Crutchie are living together in a rented boarding house room. They get and decorate a small Christmas tree.

**December 13, 1900**

Crutchie finished threading last piece of popped corn onto the cranberry and popcorn garland that he and Jack were making for their tree and passed the chain over to Jack. "That oughta do it, doncha think?" 

"Just about," Jack said, artistically draping the garland over and around the branches of the tiny tabletop tree. 

" 'Just about?' What else d'ya got f'r us ta put on it?" Crutchie said, flexing his fingers after a long half hour of stringing food onto thread. "We gots the garland, a coupla baubles, a star up top, an' a candle next to it. I can't think of anythin' else we need." 

"Baubles is bein' a bit gen'rous, Crutch," Jack said, his eyes twinkling. "They's bottlecaps." 

"Well, they's round an' they reflect the light," Crutchie said, "So I thinks they counts. I even made sure ta get only the Coca-Cola ones so's they'd be red an' Christmasy." 

"Ya did a great job," Jack said, slinging his arm around Crutchie's shoulders. "I think it's a real purty little tree." 

"Then why doncha think it's done yet?"

"Well, Kath said she'd be bringin' some tree-related gifts 'round f'r us." 

"So ornaments, then."

"Yeah." 

"So why didn't she just say so?"

Jack shrugged. "She likes surprises, an' I still haven't managed ta convince her that I mostly hates 'em." 

Crutchie laughed. "You c'n sell a hunnerd papes in a mornin' an' yet a year an' a half ain't enough f'r you ta convince a girl that you hates surprises?"

"She ain't just any girl!" Jack protested. "She's _Katherine._ " 

"That I am!" Katherine said brightly, knocking on the door of the room that Jack and Crutchie shared in a bachelors' boarding house. "And behold, esteemed gentlemen-- I come bearing gifts!"

"See?" Jack said, sticking his arm out and gesturing at Katherine. "Not just any girl." 

Crutchie tried hard not to laugh again, but he only ended up snorting so loudly that Katherine asked him if he needed a handkerchief. "No," he said, struggling to regain his composure. "But thanks."

"Okay," Katherine said, confused but unruffled. "Well, here are the gifts I mentioned." She pulled two small boxes out of her bag, giving Jack the one wrapped in blue paper and Crutchie the one wrapped in yellow. 

"Aww, ya shouldn't have--" Jack started, but Katherine rolled her eyes and lightly kicked his booted foot.

"Jack? Let's not do that old song and dance again," she said, and Jack rolled his eyes back at her. He was smiling, though, so she knew he wasn't actually annoyed. Neither was she-- she was too excited to see what the boys thought of her presents. 

Crutchie gasped as he lifted the flaps of the tiny box. "It's a replica of the Lodging House!" He pulled out a tiny wooden ornament that had been painstakingly painted to imitate the brick building where Crutchie grew up. "Oh, Kath'rine-- where'd you even find it?"

She winced internally, knowing that a truthful answer --she'd commissioned an artist to do it precisely to her specifications-- would just reinforce the differences between them. "I have a knack for finding good gifts in unusual places," she said simply, flashing a bright smile. "Do you like it okay? I can return it if--"

"No!" Crutchie cut her off immediately. "I love it. It's perfect." He stretched out across his bed to reach the tree, which was standing on a table in the middle of the room. "There," he said, hanging the ornament on a middle bough. "Now I c'n see it from anywhere on my side o' the room. Thank you, Kath'rine; I ain't never had a proper ornament of my own before. I love it." 

"All of us girls have collections of Christmas ornaments to bring with us when we get married," Katherine explained, "So we don't have to start our decorating from scratch. I know it's different for boys, but I think it's nice to have familiar things around you at Christmas, don't you? My ornaments are old friends now, and I wanted you two to have something similar."

"You're a peach, Kath," Crutchie said, shaking his head. "A real peach." 

"You're welcome," she said, blushing and quickly redirecting the conversation. "Now you open yours, Jack!" 

Jack quickly obliged, and Crutchie's breath caught again as Jack lifted the ornament from its tissue paper wrapping. Jack's hands stilled as he looked down at a row of small wooden figurines, all of them arranged and painted to look just like they had in the photo from the strike that had made the front page of the paper last year. "Ace," he breathed, "Ace, you didn't--"

"I said we weren't going to be repeating that routine today, Jack," Katherine said firmly. Jack knew the extra bit of sternness meant that she was trying not to get emotional about this even though she wanted to, and so he just nodded and smiled. 

"I love it," he told her, placing the ornament carefully on the bed before wrapping Katherine in a tight, warm hug. As soon as he could bear to release her, he moved to hang the ornament on the tree, finding a sturdy(ish) lower branch to support the weight of all of the miniscule carved newsies. "I think the tree's done now, Crutch; what do you think?"

Crutchie grinned. "I think so, too."

"Well, then there's just one thing left to do before we call it a day," Jack said, his eyes full of mischief. 

Katherine frowned. "What's that?"

"Kiss you," Jack said, his smile broadening. "C'mere, angel. Lemme thank you properly." 


	14. Scars AU Standalone. Jack/Kath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Kath go to a Christmas party and find themselves standing under the mistletoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disney asked for Jack and Kath under the mistletoe in the Scars AU, so here it is! 
> 
> Note: This doesn't take place the same year as the previous two Scars AU standalones in this drabble series.

**December 14**

Two or three years after Jack and Katherine graduated from college, they found themselves at a Christmas party at Davey's. The small New York City apartment was stuffed to the gills with Davey's friends and the friends of Davey's friends, meaning there were at least thirty people squashed into the two bedrooms, living room, and mini balcony that David shared with his slightly older sister. Space was definitely at a premium, which is why Jack and Katherine found themselves stuck in a doorway, backs pressed against either side of the frame, talking to each other across the steady stream of people making their way from the drinks to the food. 

"I still can't believe Race got Davey to host this," Katherine said loudly, struggling to be heard over the hum of people. "Seems kinda wrong to make a Jewish guy throw a Christmas party." 

Jack shrugged. "Davey don't mind," he said, taking a swig of his beer. " 'S more of a holiday party than anything else, anyway." 

Katherine frowned. "C'mon, Buttercup. There's a mini plastic Christmas tree on the table with the food, there are red and green garlands hung everywhere, and Race is blasting Christmas music. Plus, he's been trying to flirt with every girl he doesn't know by quoting Christmas movies at them." 

Jack laughed. "Kid's only just out of college; he don't know how ta flirt properly yet." 

Katherine rolled her eyes. "That wasn't my point."

Jack heaved a sigh and threw a red M&M at her head, which she deftly caught and ate. "Race didn't rope Davey inta hosting; _I_ did."

"What?"

"I knew the boys'd drink a li'l less an' be a li'l more careful if we did this at Davey's," he explained. "He makes 'em wanna be more responsible versions of themselves, an' that means they's less likely to cause trouble at the party an' on their way home." 

"Hmm." Katherine said. "Still seems wrong."

"I told him he didn't hafta," Jack objected. 

Katherine scoffed. "Oh, come on, Jack. How could he say no once you laid out your reasoning?"

"He coulda said no because I told him if he didn't wanna, I knew you'd do it."

"You _what?"_

Jack grinned.

"You were going to make me host a party full of-- of-- rowdy ragamuffin alcoholic loudmouth--"

"You know you'da done it if I asked," Jack said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Katherine made an offended noise and sipped at her mulled wine.

"Trust me, Davey don't mind," Jack said, offering her a chocolate-dipped orange slice. "Promise. He'd stick up f'r himself on this if it made either him or Sarah uncomfortable."

"Mmm," Katherine said, taking the orange and looking over at Davey, who was wearing a novelty hat shaped like a menorah and laughing as he pulled on one end of a Christmas cracker while Specs pulled the other. "I guess you're right."

"I'm always right," Jack smirked, and it was Katherine's turn to throw a piece of candy at him. 

There was a lull in the conversation as the mint bounced off his cheek and they took in the chaos around them. Jack left to grab another beer, and when he returned he looked inexplicably nervous. "Hey, girlie," he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he slid in next to her, just to the left of the doorway. "I, uh, I been meanin' ta ask ya somethin'..."

"Mhmm?" Katherine said, turning away from the raucous scene in the living room to look at him.

Jack's heart flipped as he took in her dark chocolate eyes, the burnished gleam of her hair, the slight pink of her cheeks from the wine she'd been drinking. Was he really going to do this? What if she said no? What if she left him like she had before? _That was years ago,_ he told himself. _You hardly knew each other back then. She knows you now, and somehow she still likes you despite all of the awful things you've done. Buck up, Jack; she's stuck by you through so much already, there's no way she'd_ _hurt you like that again.... right? Do it._ Do _it._ He licked his lips, screwing up the courage to speak, but then Race interrupted. 

"Omigosh you guys look look look!" He pushed himself out of the circle of young twenty-somethings playing dreidel-poker in the living room and stumbled towards Jack and Kath. "Davey hung up mistletoe an' look who's underneathhhhh!" 

The rooms on either side of the mistletoed door fell silent as everyone turned to stare at Jack and Katherine, who froze in place, eyes wide. They slowly looked around at everyone who was watching them, raised their eyes to the mistletoe hanging from the doorframe, and then locked eyes with each other. 

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Race began chanting, and soon everyone was in on it, the sound echoing throughout the apartment-- and undoubtedly throughout the neighbors' apartments, too. 

Jack felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as he looked at Katherine and saw the panic in her eyes. She flushed scarlet, whirled around, and marched over to Race. 

"Kiss!" He shouted one more time, and then Katherine hauled back and slapped him. His jaw dropped even as he clapped a hand to his cheek, feeling the sting of her fury.

Katherine didn't wait for him to respond; instead, she stalked over to the pile of coats by the door, found hers, and left, slamming the door behind her. 

"Anthony, you idiot! What were you thinking?!" Jack yelled, his eyes blazing. Race knew Katherine was sensitive about romance and physical affection, he _knew_ it-- Jack rushed out after Katherine, not even stopping to grab his jacket. "Katherine?" He shouted down the stairwell. "Baby?" His feet pattered loudly on the worn steps as he hurried along, cursing his friend under his breath. "Katherine, wait, please--" He shoved open the door to the building and staggered outside, nearly missing the first step down to the sidewalk. "Katherine!" He looked frantically left and right and then saw her in the shadows by the side of the building, huddled up against the brick, her hands pressed to cover her face. "Girlie?" He hastened to her side and stood in front of her, taking her wrists and gently pulling at them to ask if he could move her hands. She let him lower them from her face and slide them into his own hands, which were much larger and warmer than hers. "You okay?" He asked softly, and she barked a laugh. "Dumb question," he acknowledged. "But I'm still askin' it." 

"Mostly," she said, dropping one of his hands to brush away her tears. "I just-- it was a lot. Too much." She shook her head and looked up at him, her hurt and anger and embarrassment writ clear on her face. "Jack, I-- I've never kissed anyone. Except you. That... that one time."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"I've never had a boyfriend," she snapped back. "I'm not some floozy, kissing random men in bars or--"

"Hey now, hey," Jack soothed, reclaiming her right hand. "I didn't mean anythin' by it. I was just surprised, is all. So you ain't kissed anybody but me before. That's fine."

"Yeah," she said stubbornly. "It is." 

"Yeah."

They stood quietly again, Katherine looking off sideways, Jack looking straight at her. Katherine swallowed hard and met Jack's eyes. "I don't want to kiss someone because I'm forced to," she said. "If I kiss someone, it's going to be for _me--_ it won't be a performance for someone else." 

"Of course it won't," Jack said, squeezing her hands. "Race is a jerk." 

"For real," Katherine said, her frown returning. 

"So what would make a kiss be somethin' that was for you and not someone else?" 

Katherine's head snapped up and she stared at him. "What?"

"Well, you don't want your kiss to be forced and watched. That's pretty basic. What _would_ you want to have happen?"

She blushed and looked away. "I... I'd want it to be with someone I knew," she said slowly. "Someone I already like and trust." Jack took a step closer. "And I'd want him to listen to me, really listen, and... and make me feel safe." She bit her lip, and Jack squeezed her hands encouragingly. "We'd be somewhere quiet, somewhere alone, somewhere in the shadows where it's just us, and he'd... he'd place one hand on the curve of my hip, and he'd lay the other on my cheek..." Jack slid their joined hands down to cradle Katherine's right hip. "And then he'd tilt my head up," she whispered, still not looking at him, "And our eyes would meet. He'd give me time to pull away, to tell him no, to see if I really wanted him or not, and then..." she trailed off.

"Yes?" Jack breathed.

"Then he'd know I was ready. Then he'd know I wanted it, too." Katherine's voice was low, nearly too low to be heard over the unceasing noise of the city, and Jack leaned closer to hear her. "And once he was sure, he'd press his lips to mine. Softly at first, and then harder, and... and it would be wonderful." 

"It sounds it," Jack said, slipping his right hand from hers to stroke her cheek. "It sounds perfect," he whispered, guiding her head up and bending his slightly down. He felt her right hand trembling in his left as she looked up at him, the anger gone from her eyes, replaced by uncertainty and hope. "Is this a yes?" He asked, and Katherine heard him only because they were so close.

"It is," she said, and as soon as she finished speaking, Jack's lips were on hers, kissing her slowly, tenderly, and he'd pulled her flush against him, and she'd snaked her free hand around him to brace against his back and keep him close, and then the kiss had deepened, and he tasted of beer and chocolate, and she wanted more of that, more of _him_ , and she sighed into his mouth, feeling butterflies flood into her stomach and warmth shoot through her veins. "Jack," she breathed, her eyes shut, feeling the slight rasp of his evening stubble against her chin. "Oh, baby, that's... oh, that's good, that's so good." 

Jack hummed and moved his lips to the corner of her mouth, and then down her neck, his hands roving and pressing and making her melt. He moaned against her soft skin, breathing in the smell of her perfume and tasting the salt of her sweat. "Katherine," he murmured. "Girlie, baby, I... mmmm..." he kissed his way back up to her lips and then pulled back slightly, both of them breathing hard. "So... so a kiss for you would be something like that, maybe?" 

"Maybe," she sighed, her eyes still closed, unwilling to return to reality. 

"Maybe I should try again?" He asked hopefully, running a thumb down her cheek. 

"Yes, please," she breathed, already leaning in again.

"Okay." 


	15. Growing Together series standalone, Jack/Kath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate Pulitzer has an early Christmas gift for Jack.

**December 15, 1904**

"I feel like ice skating should keep you warmer than it does," Katherine said, rubbing at her reddened nose. 

"It would if we were going faster," Jack chuckled.

"It's not my fault that you keep getting distracted while we skate," Katherine said primly. 

"We just gotta practice," Jack said. "What a shame, having to come back to Central Park and hold hands again sometime soon..."

"Oh, I know what'll help!" Katherine said, tugging Jack's hand and skipping forward in the snow. "Let's go get cocoa at my parents' house to warm up!" 

"What? No! Why would we do that?"

Katherine pushed out her lower lip and batted her eyelashes up at her husband. "Please, darling? We're in the neighborhood, and it can just be a quick visit. The house looks beautiful at Christmas, too-- you should see it." 

"I'll see it next week at the Christmas party," Jack objected. "I don't need ta see it twice."

"Okay, fine," Katherine said. "My mother has an early gift for you, and she wanted me to find a way to get you over without making you suspicious."

Jack gave her a disbelieving look. "You didn't try very hard to keep that a secret, did you." 

"No," she blithely admitted. "You're the one who's going to have to act surprised, not me."

Jack glared at her, and then he sighed heavily. "Alright, then. Let's go make your mother happy." 

"I knew you'd see reason," she grinned, and pulled him down the pathway. 

The walk to the Pulitzer mansion was a short one, and the Kellys soon found themselves being relieved of their snow-sodden coats and ushered into the company of Katherine's parents.

Kate Pulitzer stood as soon as the pair entered the room and embraced each of them in turn. "Katherine! Jack! What a pleasant surprise!"

Katherine and Jack had just enough time to exchange an amused look before Joseph Pulitzer was up, too, shaking Jack's hand and giving his daughter a brief kiss on the cheek. 

"I'm so glad you're here," Kate said brightly, "Because Jack, dear, I have a present for you!"

"What?" Jack said, doing his best to look taken aback. "But Kate, Christmas is over a week away!" 

"This is something you'll want before then," she said, her eyes twinkling, and Jack decided that enduring an hour or so at the Pulitzers' would be worth it if it made his mother-in-law this excited. "Wait here." 

Jack raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated face of anticipation, and Katherine hugged him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Do you know what it is?" He whispered to her, knowing Joe's hearing was too far gone to catch his words. 

"Yes," she said, squeezing his forearms. "She's been telling me about it for five months now-- ever since our wedding. It's sweet." 

"Do I do sweet?" Jack asked skeptically, raising one of his hands to brush at his nose. "I thought I was a rough-and-tumble street kid."

"Silly goose," Katherine said fondly. "You're so sweet that sometimes I worry the rain will melt you away." 

Jack snorted, but any potential response was cut off by a beaming Kate Pulitzer, who returned with a long, flat box in her hands. "Open it!" She said, ushering Jack to an armchair and placing the box in his lap. 

"You really didn't have to," Jack said doubtfully, looking from the gift to Kate and back. "I didn't bring anything for you, and--"

"Pish posh," Kate said, waving a hand. "Transactions are about getting something in return; gifts are not. Go ahead and open it!"

"Okay," Jack said, untying the bright red ribbon and pulling up the box lid. He paused, blinked, and then sucked in a breath. "Ohhh," he exhaled, lifting a large, hand-embroidered Christmas stocking out of the box. He studied it for several seconds, taking some time to trace over the winter scene stitched onto the front, and then he carefully ran his index finger across his name, which was sewn in large cursive letters across the top. "It's beautiful," he said, his voice reverent. "Did you--" He stopped, then looked up to meet Kate's eyes. "Kate, did you-- surely you didn't make it yourself?"

"Of course I did!" Kate said, a little bit proud and a little bit indignant. "I made Christmas stockings for all of my other children, so of course I made one for you, too. You're a part of the family now, dear, and you need a stocking to match." 

Jack's eyes grew wider and he swallowed hard. "I... I don't know what to say..." he mumbled, his eyes dropping back down to the stocking. 

"Don't say anything," Kate ordered. "Just go hang it by the others on the mantelpiece. Katherine can find a hook for you." 

Katherine smiled at Jack and guided him across the room to the mantle, where stockings were already hanging for Ralph, Joseph Jr., Katherine, Constance, Edith, and little Herbert. "Here you are," she said, handing a weighted hook to him so that he could place his stocking in the ready-made space between her stocking and Connie's. 

Jack's hand trembled slightly as he hung the stocking up, and then he took a step backwards to admire it, relaxing into the arm that Katherine wrapped around his waist. "Wouldja look at that," he breathed, wholly overwhelmed. Katherine brushed his dark hair back and kissed his temple.

"Perfect," Kate said, her voice warm. "Now, cocoa, anyone?" 

"Yes, please," Katherine said, leaving Jack's side and joining her mother. "We've just come from skating, and we could use a little warming up!" 

"Off to the parlor, then," Kate announced, patting her husband's arm and sweeping out of the room with her daughter. 

"Wait!" Jack croaked, causing both women to pause in the doorway. "Kate, I-- _t_ _h_ _ank_ you."

Her face softened and she smiled. "You're welcome, Jack. Merry Christmas." 


	16. Canon Era, Newsboy Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has a snowball fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to politics_and_prose for the prompt, and many happy returns! <3 :)

**December 16, 1899**

"Aaaa, you got me!" Jack staggered backwards into a snowdrift at the park and collapsed. With a low groan, he closed his eyes, stuck his tongue out of his mouth, and twitched his legs violently for several seconds before finally lying completely still.

"Again, again!" Puddles and Gap-Tooth led the charge of little newsies running towards Jack and pulling on his arms to try and hoist him to his feet. "Do it again, Jack!" 

"Okay, okay," Jack said, pushing himself up. "Just gimme a second to regroup, fellas, alright?"

"No, now!" Fishy demanded, tugging on Jack's wrist. "I din't get ta hit ya last time, so we gotta do it again!"

"We will, but in a minute," Jack said, gently laying a hand on the boy's head. 

"No, now! Hurry _up_ _!"_ Fishy said, stomping in the snow. 

"Fishy," Katherine called from a park bench nearby, "I need Jack for just a second, okay? Can I borrow him from you, please?"

Fishy sighed and dropped Jack's wrist. "Fiiiiiiine. But be quick!"

"I will," She promised, and beckoned Jack over. 

"Thanks, Ace," he said, trotting over to her side and sitting down next to her. "Gotta catch my breath, ya know?"

"I do," she said, smiling. She gave him a peck on the cheek and brushed some snow from his shoulder. "You're wonderful with them, Jack. Honestly, you're a marvel." 

"Oh, come on," Jack said, bumping her shoulder with his. "I'm already your fella; ya don't need ta butter me up." 

"I'm serious," Katherine insisted, laying her book down on her lap. "My older brothers are both fairly terrible with Tony. There's something about boys that makes them awful with kids, I swear." 

"That doesn't make any sense," Jack said, giving her an odd look. "Older boys used ta be kids, and lots of little kids are boys. Why wouldn't a boy know how ta play with a kid?"

"Beats me," Katherine said, shrugging. "Kids are just people, after all. Little, irrational, very loud people," she said with a smile, nodding to the passel of smaller newsies who were starting to holler at Jack, demanding that he return to the snowball fight. 

Jack eyed the restive group of children and laughed. "Alright, alright! I'm comin'!" He fought through two or three more snowball fights with them, by the end of which a few more of the older boys had finished selling and gathered around Katherine on the park bench.

"Whatcha readin', Kath?" Specs asked, leaning over her shoulder. 

" _The Awakening_ ," Katherine replied. "You can have it when I'm done with it, if you'd like. I'm not sure you'd enjoy it, but you're welcome to give it a shot."

"Sure," Specs said, giving Katherine his easy smile. "I'd love that." 

"Lookit Jack," Race scoffed, pointing at the fight with his cigar. "He's got awful aim. Missin' ev'ry one o' those little kids. An' ta think he used ta head up our baseball squad. Sittin' at the illustrator's desk has basic'ly turned him inta a girl."

Katherine raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"No offense, Kath," Race said. "But look at that arm. Weak as spaghetti." 

"I think _you_ need to read my book, not Specs," Katherine muttered.

"I'd love some spaghetti," Albert sighed, resting his weight on the back of the park bench. "Spaghetti with meatballs. So many meatballs..."

"Made of lamb?" JoJo teased, and Albert shoved him. 

"No, made of oysters. Of _course_ made of lamb, you idiot!"

"Hey, Jack!" Race called, cupping his hands around his mouth. "That throw was so bad, it's a wonder ya didn't hit yaself in the face!"

"I'll hit _you_ in the face!" Jack yelled back, whiffing another throw at Puddles and the rest. 

Race cackled. "Not with that arm, ya won't!"

"Don't test me, Racer," Jack warned, tossing an underpacked snowball at the little boys and watching it turn into powder before it even reached them. "I'll whup your butt." 

"I betcha a dime ya can't come within ten feet of my butt," Race jeered. "Your aim is so bad an' your arm is so weak that--" His next words turned into a garbled yell as Jack spun sideways and fired a missile of a snowball right into Race's face. 

Katherine was polite enough to hide her laughter behind her hand, but the rest of the newsies made no such effort.

Jack grinned and jogged over to Race, who was wiping snow off of his face and spitting little bits of ice and leaf matter out of his mouth. Looking extremely smug, Jack adjusted his cap, brushed his gloves off on his trousers, and held out his hand. "I'll have that dime now, kiddo." 

"Aw," Race grumbled, but he fished in his pockets and pulled one out soon enough. "Nice shot, Jackie," he said, clapping Jack on the shoulder and giving him a broad smile. "Glad ta see ya ain't lost your touch."

"Never," Jack said, pulling off Race's knitted hat to ruffle the boy's hair. "But feel free ta doubt me anytime. Easiest ten cents I ever made." 

Race grinned. "How's about we even up this snowball fight, huh?" He said loudly. "Me an' Jack against the rest of you ragamuffins?"

"Yeah!" A cheer erupted from the smaller boys, all of whom were thrilled at the chance to take on two of their biggest idols at once. 

Jack and Race hustled back over to the battlefield, smiles as wide as the Mississippi. "Alright, boys! Here we go!"


	17. Growing Together series standalone, Jack/Kath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine wants a holiday photo with the full Kelly family.

**December 17, 1914**

"Jack, do you know what would be lovely?"

"Mmm?"

"A holiday photo with the children."

Jack looked up from his work. "Aaaace," he said, a warning note to his voice, "You know that can't end any way but badly." 

"Please, Jack?"

Jack rolled his shoulders and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, darlin'. I'll make you a deal. If you c'n get the kids dressed an' ready to go to the photographer's in the next hour and a half, we c'n take a family Christmas photo." 

Katherine narrowed her eyes at him. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," Jack said. "Just no help from me, either."

"A full ninety minutes? Half an hour per kid?"

"Yup."

"You're on." 

An hour and a half later, Katherine walked into the living room, her three children in tow. Theo was rumpled but presentable, wearing long stockings, calfskin slippers, and a loose white gown. He bounced happily on Katherine's hip, smiling cherubically as he clapped his hands and sang sounds that sounded like a version of Away in a Manger that had been run through a blender and then reassembled.

Eleanor had clearly insisted on helping to pick out her outfit, because even though her unruly hair was gathered neatly into miniature pigtails and tied with large white ribbons, and even though her white lace dress and pinafore were crisp and neat with the bows done just right, she was also wearing blindingly pink tights and her green rubber rain boots.

Nicky was where everything fell apart, though-- his brown hair was sticking up every which way, his stockings had sagged around his ankles, the collar to his smart little sailor's uniform was on backwards, and the corresponding necktie was stuffed down the front of his shirt. 

"No, Mommy, noooooo," Nicholas wailed, pressing his face into Katherine's thigh and clutching her leg so firmly that his baby-sharp fingernails poked a hole in her stockings. "Don't wanna goooooo!" Nicky leaned backwards to gather enough breath to scream some more, and Jack snorted to see the faint imprint of his son's face stained in snot and dirt on Katherine's leg.

Katherine looked down at her middle child, sighed, and shook her head. "You win, Jack." 


	18. Canon Era, Jack & Davey friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is having a little trouble with a basic Christmas task.

**December 18, 1899**

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh! $#*@! _%$!*#!!!"_

"Uh, Crutchie? D'you think one of us oughta go check on Jack?" Davey was teaching some of the littler newsies how to read, and keeping them focused after a long day of selling papers was hard enough without the addition of Jack's loud obscenities. 

"Hmm?" Crutchie looked up from the sock he was darning and blinked. "Oh. Nah. He's fine."

Davey raised an eyebrow. "He sounds like someone's just told him Santa Fe don't exist." 

Crutchie laughed. "He does, don't he?" He set the sock aside and stretched his arms, yawning. "If ya wanna go up there then be my guest, but I's not takin' the blame when Jack bites ya head off."

"I'll consider myself warned," Davey said dryly. He tugged JoJo over to take his place at helping Puddles sound out an unfamiliar word, and then he jogged slowly up the stairs of the Lodging House to the bunkroom where Jack was holed up. He knocked crisply at the door and cracked it open. "Jack?" A furious shout came in response, and Davey's eyes widened. "Geez, Jack! what's got you so worked up?" 

"Stupid dumb useless idiotic pointless..."

"Is there a noun coming anytime soon?" Davey deadpanned, stepping into the room with his arms folded across his chest. "Or are you just going to keep rattling off adjectives without ever..." He trailed off, seeing the mess in front of him. 

Jack was surrounded by crumpled heaps of newspaper, mostly, with some fancy wrapping paper mixed in, as well as severed hunks of twine, an unrolled spool of velvety gift ribbon, and dollops of glue that dotted the floor, the paper, and Jack himself. 

Davey burst out laughing. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Wrappin' a present, ya lumpkin!" Jack glared, pushing himself up off the floor and shedding snippets of paper and string as he went. 

Davey was unfazed by the insult. "It looks like you're practicing to be a rag and bone man." 

Jack's eyes flashed.

"Seriously," Davey said, "This is a certifiable disaster."

"Well, if it's so easy, why don't you do it?"

Davey held his hands up. "Hey now, I'm Jewish. Don't drag me into your Christian holiday."

"You's just sayin' that 'cause you don't know how ta wrap a present, either." 

Davey gave Jack a mischievous grin and shrugged. "Maybe."

Jack sank back to the floor and sighed, picking up pieces of paper and string and letting them fall to the ground again. "All I wanted ta do was give Kath somethin' pretty," he said sadly, crumpling a section of an old newspaper and shaking his head. "But I just can't get it ta come out right."

"Well, there's gotta be someone in the Lodging House who knows how to do this sort of thing," Davey reasoned. 

"Ya reckon?"

"Sure! With this many people, there has to be at least one of us with some present-wrapping experience."

*

Six days later, Jack handed Katherine a sturdy paper gift bag with a Christmas tree drawn on the front. "Merry Christmas, Ace."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: A couple of years ago I refused to wrap my dad's presents to me, so he commandeered a massive stack of paper bags from the checkout area at a store and used them to wrap every single present he had for us kids. Oh, and his 'gift tags' were yellow sticky notes.


	19. Canon Era, Platonic Newsboys + Jack/Kath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the little newsboys stops believing in Santa Claus. Katherine tries to fix that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt given by politics_and_prose!

**December 19, 1899**

A furious yell echoed down the lodging house stairs, followed by pounding footsteps. Finch burst into the living room at top speed, his knuckles white and his eyes wild. "Which one of you rats took it, huh? Give it back! Give it back _now!"_

"Whoa, Finchy," Race said, looking up from his hand of cards. "What're ya even talkin' about?"

Finch whirled on Race. "Was it you? Did you do it? Give it ta me now, Race, or I swear I'll--"

"We really don't know what you's talkin' about, Finchy," Elmer said, trying to restore peace. "But hey, maybe if you tell us, we c'n help ya find it!"

"My slingshot!" Finch wailed, holding out his hand and opening and closing it several times. "Someone took my slingshot!"

"Aw, I's sure no one took it," Crutchie said kindly. "None o' us'd do that to ya, we knows how much ya loves that thing."

Finch narrowed his eyes. _"Delanceys._ I's gonna soak 'em."

"Hey now, Finch, hold up a minute," Albert said. "They's two o' them an' one o' you. An' besides, maybe ya just lost it."

"No," Finch spat. "No way I'd lose it. Someone took it, an' I'm gonna make 'em pay." 

"You's gonna get mauled if ya goes off on ya own," Race warned.

Finch growled. "Don't care! They's gonna pay. I's gonna make 'em." He stalked off to grab his winter coat and headed out the door, slamming it behind him.

Race whistled. "He's bein' dumb, ain't he."

"Yup," Albert said, playing the next card. "One o' us better go after him, else he's gonna come back in pieces." 

Sniper shook his head. "I ain't doin' it. 'S cold out there."

"Cold as your dead heart," Mush said. "But I'm with ya. Finch knows what he's gettin' himself inta. He's bein' dumb, an' I's not gonna pay f'r that." 

"I hopes we got enough bandages ta wrap him up when he comes back," Henry said. 

_"If_ he comes back," Mike muttered.

"They's really gonna beat 'im bad, ain't they," Ike sighed. 

"Yup," Race said, chewing on the end of his cigar. "Biff whomp kapow." 

Suddenly, on the opposite side of the room, one of the littler newsies burst into tears. "I did it! I took the slingshot!"

"You what?" Crutchie asked, his mouth dropping open. "Fishy, how could you?"

"I just wanted ta try it out an' Finch wouldn't share an' so I stole it an' now he's gonna _die!"_

"Well go get him, man!" Mush yelled. "Catch him up!" The rest of the boys joined in in urging Fishy to go make things right with Finch, and the little boy, still crying, ran down the street.

"Finch!" He yelled, slipping and sliding on the icy sidewalks. "Finch, it was me! Don't get your head beat in, Finch, please, stop, come back, it was me!"

Fishy might have been young, but he'd had plenty of practice at hollering loudly enough to stop all sorts of people in their tracks-- fancy businessmen, society debutantes, oil magnates, and more. His cries were more than loud enough to reach Finch, who was only a block away. Finch paused, turned, and stalked backwards, his shoulders hunched against the cold, his eyes sparking like embers. "Give it. Now." 

Sniffling and ashamed, Fishy stretched a trembling hand out to Finch, offering up the stolen slingshot. "I's sorry, Finch. Really, I am. I promise I won't never--"

"Save it, Fishy," Finch snapped. "You's still gotta pay f'r stealin' my stuff. An' since you's too young ta soak, I gotta think up somethin' else."

Fishy cringed and fell silent. 

Finch snapped his fingers. "I know. I got some info for ya, Fishy. Ya know Santa Claus?"

Fishy nodded eagerly; he and the younger kids had already gotten one delivery from Santa earlier this month, when he'd given all of them new winter clothes, and they had all been on pins and needles ever since, waiting to see what Santa would bring them for Christmas day. 

Finch leaned in close. "Well, Santa ain't real."

"What?"

"He's made up, Fishy. No such thing as Santa Claus. Absolute make-believe fairy story." 

Fishy went white, and then he turned and ran. 

*

"... so that's why I's late, Ace," Jack explained. "Kid cried f'r fifteen minutes 'fore I could get it outta him, an' then another thirty 'fore I could calm him down enough ta sleep."

"Remind me never to cross Finch," Katherine said, shaking her head. "That was... Well, it wasn't kind."

"Eh, well, Fishy knew better," Jack said. "Finch mighta gone a bit far, but Fishy knew what he was riskin'."

Katherine gave him a look, then ate another french fry. Jack knew the rules of the Lodging House better than she did, of course, and if he thought that Finch had played fair-- at least mostly-- then, well, she wasn't going to waste time trying to convince him otherwise. Still, she felt bad for the younger boy. "So what are you going to do?"

Jack shrugged. "Just gotta put up with the cryin' until he gets over it, I guess."

"Aren't you going to try to help him? And what if he tells all the other little kids?"

"They's gonna find out sooner or later," Jack said, munching on Katherine's untouched pickle. "I don't see much point in tryna convince 'em otherwise. Not like I can show up in a Santa costume or nothin'. I don't got the funds. Or the beard. Or the belly." His eyes took on a mischievous gleam. "Though if ya wants ta split a dessert, maybe we c'n work on gettin' me a belly, huh?"

Katherine laughed and called the waiter over so that she could order three large slices of cake. Then she leaned across the table and said, "You know what? I think I have a solution to this that doesn't involve anyone pretending to be a fat old man."

"You ain't gettin' your father ta dress up, are ya?" Jack asked, horrified. "He's old enough, sure, but--"

"Jack, no!" Katherine interrupted. "No, of course not. Let me look through the archives at The Sun's office to be sure, but if I'm remembering correctly, then I think the power of the press will save us once again."

"Okay, Ace," Jack said, skeptical but far more interested in his chocolate cake than in debating this with her. "Whateva you say." 

*

Jack poked his head into the bunkroom to hear Katherine finishing up the newspaper editorial from 1897 that she was reading out loud to all of the little boys.

"...Santa Claus! Thank God! He lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood." She looked up from the paper to see twenty pairs of eyes shining brightly up at her. "So you see, boys, if an editor at _The Sun_ says Santa is real, then it must be true, mustn't it?" The boys nodded vigorously, and Katherine smiled to see that Fishy's head was bobbing even more rapidly than the rest. "Now, does that settle this for you?" She asked, just to be sure. The boys nodded again, and Fishy went so far as to scramble off of his top bunk, run to Katherine, and throw his arms around her hips in a bone-crushing hug. 

"Thank you, Miss Kath'rine," he said, absolutely beaming. "Thank you so much." 

"You're very welcome, Fishy," she said, stooping to return his hug. "Now off to bed with you. Santa brings presents for good children who go to bed on time, so hippy hoppy up into your bunk, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am!" He chirped, and clambered quickly up the wooden bedframe. 

Katherine went from bed to bed, tucking each child in and giving hugs and kisses as requested. Finally, she slipped out of the bedroom and into the hallway, where Jack was waiting for her. 

"You's an angel, Ace," he said, pulling her close and kissing her on the cheek. "An' I wants ya ta know that although I ain't believed in Santa Claus f'r ages, they won't never come a day when I don't believe in you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the full (real) editorial [here](https://www.nysun.com/editorials/yes-virginia/68502/).


	20. Canon Era, Platonic Newsboys and Jack/Kath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys bake cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Santa_Fe_Bound for the prompt!

**December 20, 1899**

"Is ya sure ya wants ta do this, Ace? I mean, cookin' with a gaggle o' boys ain't gonna be easy, an', well, you ain't 'zactly that experienced yaself, neither." 

"Christmas cookies are an important part of Christmas, Jack," Katherine said loftily. "I decorate them every year."

"Yeah, once the dough is made an' rolled out an' cut for ya."

Katherine frowned. "You don't have to be mean about it. I'm not the one who decided to employ a cook or set the rules in my family. I was a kid." 

Jack deflated. "Sorry, Ace." 

"I forgive you." 

"Well, let's give this a go, then," Jack said, pushing open the door to the Lodging House. "Boys! Kath'rine's here with some cookie dough, cookie cutters, an' a wagonload of sprinkles! Who wants ta decorate?" 

The thundering sound of stampeding feet was answer enough, as boy after boy flooded into the kitchen, ready to make cookies. 

"Spread out," Katherine ordered, "And I'll give you each a cookie cutter. Sprinkles have to be shared. There's more than enough dough for everyone; I just have to roll it out first." 

The boys obeyed quickly, eager to start eating raw cookie dough and guzzling sprinkles, and Katherine broke a hunk of dough off to shape into cookies. Her hands grew red and her arms grew sore as she rolled out slab after slab, each one of which was passed down the line to a waiting newsie. 

"Hey, Albert, trade me your star for my snowman?"

"Sure, Racer."

"We c'n trade? Buttons! Lemme borrow your gingerbread man? You can have a turn with my reindeer!"

"Deal, Elmer." 

"Hey, Kath, why'd ya give Finch a bird? Birds ain't Christmasy."

"Maybe they ain't, Mike" Finch piped up, "But I loves 'em anyway. Thanks f'r bringin' it, Kath!" 

Soon the boys were completely focused on their task, and only a few of them knocked over bottles of sprinkles and pinched their fingers while cutting out cookies. Jack quickly soothed any disputes over who had which cookie cutter, and Katherine went from boy to boy, complimenting them on their artistic talents. And if more dough ended up being eaten raw than was placed in the oven, more sprinkles were licked off of fingers than were shaken onto cookies, and the cookies turned out a little bit burnt, well, no one really minded. 


	21. Scars AU Standalone, Jack/Kath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine gets a Christmas card.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to the story from December 2.

**December 21**

Katherine sneezed once, twice, three times as she hiked up the stairs to her apartment. "Blasted cold," she muttered, dumping her purse, the mail, and three library books on the kitchen counter.

Once the teakettle whistled, she sat down on the couch with a mug full of steaming hot ginger tea and started to sift through the mail. "Junk, junk, junk," she said, tossing one envelope after another into the paper grocery bag she and her roommate put their recyclables in. "Ooh, not junk!" Her eyes lit up when she checked the return address and saw _J. Kelly_ written in scrawled capital letters. 

She couldn't help herself from hoping that it would be one of the beautiful handmade Christmas cards she'd seen him working on for the boys earlier that month, but she squashed that thought as soon as possible. They'd only met in February; there was no way he'd consider them close enough friends to warrant spending several hours on a piece of artwork tailor-made for her. _He probably opened my gift early_ , she thought, trying to shift her emotions from anticipation over to exasperation. _I told him not to, but I bet he did, and this is a thank you note. He has manners when he wants to, after all._

She rose and crossed to the kitchen to pull out a knife, carefully slitting the letter open the way her father had taught her to. Her heart fell ever so slightly as her fingers brushed against cardstock far too thick to be one of the intricately painted scenes he made for his friends. Those had been done on one sheet of watercolor paper, not on... what even was this? _Merry Christmas, K_ , said the front of the card --or whatever it was--, painted in golden majuscules. Katherine knit her brows together in confusion, and then her jaw dropped as the back of the card fell open and unfolded into an accordion chain of eleven miniature watercolor paintings, one for each month they'd known each other. 

She sank back onto the couch, reverently laying the card across her lap. Jack had painted out their year, each scene unmistakably something they had gone to or done or experienced together. February was first, showing Katherine wearing her purple tights, sitting primly across the table from a slouchy, baseball cap-wearing Jack as they faced each other in the Student Union. Then came March, and Katherine laughed out loud to see a back view of herself in her tightest jeans, posing alluringly in the stairwell of her dorm. April showed the two of them working in one of the art rooms, Katherine typing away on her computer while Jack studied a large canvas in front of him. May brought tears to her eyes-- Jack had painted the two of them and a gaggle of their respective friends wearing their graduation regalia, happily clutching their diplomas and embracing each other. June included Charlie and Keiko on the ice cream shop tour the four of them had made of the Upper East Side (a tour unknowingly financed by Katherine's father, of course), and July was a group of them admiring fireworks over the Hudson. Next came their August daytrip to Rockaway Beach, their September outing to pick apples in an orchard Upstate, and Race's riotous Halloween party, where Katherine had dressed up as Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Jack had gone as Derek Jeter (since he already had the cap, cleats, and baseball pants). November was another group painting, showing all of them at the Friendsgiving they'd had at Sniper's favorite Chinese restaurant. December was just her and Jack again, although Katherine didn't recognize this scene immediately like she had the others. It wasn't that the painting was bad-- on the contrary, she thought this was the most beautiful of the lot. She found herself unable to tear her eyes away from the crystalline winter scene before her, which showed the two of them in vivid motion, skating on the famous ice rink in front of Rockefeller Center. Katherine frowned; they hadn't been skating before. It would probably be fun, yes, but they hadn't done it. So why was it here? Then, squinting more closely at the panel, she saw a note scribbled in the lower right corner. _December 23, 3pm?_

Katherine grinned and pulled out her phone. "You're an artistic genius, Kelly, and I'll see you in two days. Bring your skates!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Katherine totally mailed Jack a Christmas card with a stick figure drawing of the two of them eating pizza. Jack hangs it on his fridge.


	22. Canon Era, Jack/Kath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine has to give a toast at her family's fancy Christmas party.

**December 22, 1900**

"Kiss me, Jack," Katherine begged, pulling him to her. 

"You's gonna do great, Ace," Jack soothed, running a hand over her hair. "You's practiced and practiced, and you's going to be fabulous. Brilliant, in fact."

"Please come with me," she said, knowing what the answer would be. 

He gave her a small smile and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Ya know that's a bad idea." 

"I don't care what they think," she insisted. "No, don't give me that look-- I genuinely don't! I want you there, Jackie. I do." 

"Oh, darlin'. You's got enough on your mind without havin' ta worry about me runnin' amok at your family's fancy Christmas party." 

"I wouldn't worry, and you wouldn't run amok." 

"You's a liar, and I's a bull in a china shop," Jack said, kissing her temples. "I want your focus ta be on your Christmas toast, not on me. An' that's what your family an' the guests should be focused on, too. I ain't gonna steal your thunder." 

She sighed and looked down at the space between them, her small button-up boots and his scuffed work brogues. "How are those so dirty? You work in an office." He blinked, then followed her gaze down to his feet. "I'm getting you new ones." 

He laughed. "They'll just get dirty, too, ya know. Shoes do that, 'specially when a fella's got wild little brothers ta corral." 

"Shoe polish, then," she said. "And new laces." 

"Now you's just stallin'," he chided, but she could hear the fondness in his voice. "Go on, then-- get in there an' blow 'em away, Miss Star Reporter." 

Katherine looked back up at him, her forehead creased. "Are you sure it's good enough? You're not just saying that? Because if you're trying to curry favor by flattering me and then this all goes belly-up, you should know that I'll be very upset."

"I should know that, yes," Jack said, caressing her cheek. "And, what's more, I _do_ know that. I ain't lyin', Ace. It's a good speech. You's a good writer an' a good speaker, an' you's gonna do your family proud. So stop worryin' already an' get in there, alright?"

Katherine frowned again and straightened Jack's collar.

"Ace," he coaxed. "Ya hafta go give that speech, doll. If ya don't, I won't get ta hear all about it t'morrow when ya meet me f'r lunch." 

She brightened. "We're doing lunch?"

"Only if you give that speech," he said, his eyes twinkling. 

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Kelly," she said, starting to smile.

"I have been known ta twist a Pulitzer's arm a time or two in my past," he grinned. 

She smiled for real now and gave him a quick hug. "Thanks, Jack."

"Knock 'em dead," he said, pushing her gently away and motioning her back inside the mansion. "An' see ya tomorrow."

Katherine nodded and pulled the door open, blowing him a kiss as she slipped away into her high society life.

Jack mimed catching it even though there was no one to see him do so, and then he adjusted his cap, shoved his hands into his pockets, and whistled his way home. 


	23. Scars AU Standalone, Jack/Kath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Katherine go skating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to Dec 2 and 21

**December 23**

"Whaddya mean, you're gonna pull me along?"

"Just what I said-- hold my hands and I'll pull you along as I skate."

"Both of 'em?"

"Yep."

"How's that gonna work? Ain't one hand good enough?"

"Oh, right, no, sorry-- I'll be skating backwards."

"You _what?_ No!"

Katherine rolled her eyes. "Seriously?"

"Seriously! I don't wanna be the cause of your second major injury this year, 'specially not after causin' the first one, too!"

"My scraped knees were hardly a major injury," she scoffed. "And I'm really good at skating, so lighten up."

"So good ya got eyes in the back of your head?"

"You'll be my eyes, silly," Katherine smiled. "Now come on and give me your hands." 

Jack scanned her face and looked skeptically around the rink before hesitantly placing his hands in hers. "I'm kinda heavy. Are ya sure ya wanna--"

" _Jack._ Once we get some momentum, it won't matter how much you weigh or how much taller you are or any of that, okay? Your job is to stay upright and make sure I don't hit anyone... Although I can look backwards every now and then, too, so mostly just try to stay upright." 

"I dunno..."

"Come on. Deep breath, here we go..." 

Jack's eyes widened the further they got around the rink. Katherine had worked up some speed about halfway through the first lap, and he found himself captivated by the blue-gray scrape of their skates on the ice. She gave him a bright smile as they sailed past the entrance to the rink and squeezed his hands to check on him. He smiled and nodded back, finally comfortable enough to enjoy the experience. "How'dja learn ta do this?" 

"Ten years of figure skating lessons," she said, checking briefly over her shoulder as they navigated the curve. "I was pretty good." 

"Whoa." They sped along in silence for a while longer, and then Jack knit his brows. "Why'd you stop?"

"Puberty," she said grimly. "I didn't have the right body type. I mean, I could've kept it up, I guess, but I had the wrong look for competitions, and I was fully aware of that. It got to the point where putting on my costume --even just for practice, at a mostly-empty rink with my coach-- well, it made me want to-- I mean, it-- it... It just wasn't fun anymore, you know? Not worth it." 

Jack nodded and squeezed her hands gently in return. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks," she said lightly, "But it's okay now. I enjoyed it for the first eight years, and now I get to enjoy it again-- this time on my own terms." She smiled at him, her cheeks pink with exertion and cold. "And there's very little about skating that I enjoy more than introducing it to newbies," she added, her eyes crinkling. "Are you having fun?"

"So much," Jack replied. "I always wanted ta go when I was a kid, but at first I didn't want ta go without Emmy, an' then... well, then I didn't really have a chance to anymore." 

"Not even in college?"

Jack shrugged. "I spent my money on other stuff. Plus, I didn't really wanna strap knives on my feet an' then try ta balance on a slick, hard surface with Race anywhere nearby. Recipe for disaster, if ya ask me."

Katherine laughed. "I agree. Seems to me you made the right choice, Kelly."

His stomach flipped as her words rang golden in his head, and he tried to give himself a moment to recover by dropping his eyes and focusing on something other than the exhilaration and intelligence in her eyes. He failed miserably, though, as his gaze fell directly on their joined hands. He'd been trying hard to avoid thinking about this, too-- how her dainty fingers were enlaced with his own, how the hands he'd so often watched fly across a keyboard were now flying with him across the ice, how she was gripping him tightly and firmly and without hesitation, like... like she liked him. Like she supported him. Like she wanted him close by. She'd pulled him into her orbit this year, and here he was, her willing satellite, wanting nothing more than to live in this moment forever. But he couldn't. The moment was over, and now he had to figure out what came next. _Say somethin', Kelly. She's gonna get suspicious if ya don't say somethin' like a normal person. Like a friend. Be normal for once in your life, goshdarnit-- be normal!_ He lifted his eyes and covered his unwanted emotions with a casual smile. "You betcha, Pulitzer. But it's ta be expected-- I got a reputation f'r always makin' the right choice, ya know."

She raised an eyebrow, swallowing the ten counterexamples she could think of right off the bat. "Do you, now." 

"Mhmm," he said, grinning like a cat that had gotten the cream. "An' after this I choose ta go get hot chocolate with ya. If ya wanna, that is," he said, his dimple showing as his smile grew.

"Sounds perfect," she said, and Jack's heart sang. 


	24. Growing Together series standalone, Jack/Kath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kelly family goes to a Christmas Eve church service.

**December 24, 1914**

Katherine straightened Nicky's collar as they exited the cab and headed into the church. Theo scrambled after her, begging to be carried, but Jack intercepted him. "C'mere, Bear," he said gently, picking up his nearly two-year-old son. "It's hard for Mommy to carry you right now, remember? Lemme get you instead." 

Katherine sent a grateful look to Jack and reached for Nicholas' hand as Eleanor charged in first, excited to show off her new Christmas dress to her kindergarten friends. They mingled briefly in the foyer, saying hello to friends and acquaintances, before calling Ellie back over and entering the sanctuary.

"Candles?" Asked the usher, extending the basket of small white tapers to Jack and Katherine. 

"Yes!" Said Eleanor, standing on her tiptoes to peer into the basket. "Three, please!" 

"Two," amended Katherine.

Eleanor frowned. "But I get one of 'em, right?"

"You can help me hold mine, darling," Katherine said. 

"I want my own!"

"Eleanor," Katherine said, a warning note in her voice. 

"Mommy! I'm five an' three quarters now. I'm big enough f'r my own candle this year." 

Katherine shot a look at the line building up behind them and pursed her lips. "Jack?"

He looked at the usher, who refused to settle anything and simply said, "Some children is more mature than others." 

"I'm very mature," Ellie insisted, holding her mother's free hand and bouncing lightly up and down. "Please, Mommy? Please?"

"Alright, Eleanor," Katherine said, shooting another look at the pile-up they were causing. "You may have a candle. But since I asked for two, not three, would you be kind enough to share yours with me?"

"Of course!" Ellie was magnanimous in victory and skipped happily down the center aisle of the church, leading the way to the family's usual pew. "Mommy, c'n I have my crayons, please?" 

Katherine slipped the children's activity bag off of her shoulder and pulled out a set of crayons for each of the children, along with Nativity coloring sheets that Jack had drawn and printed especially for tonight's Christmas Eve service. Getting their three wiggleworms to sit through a normal service was hard enough, but a Christmas Eve service? Next to impossible. Ellie had infected her brothers with an unfocused, unpredictable excitement about Christmas, with Theo liable to start yelling about "Kimmis" without any prompting whatsoever and Nicky prone to babbling endlessly about the toys he'd be getting. Hardly appropriate behavior for a church service, particularly one this well-attended. Both Jack and Katherine were hoping that these coloring sheets could pull off the miracle of keeping the Kelly kids quiet. It was an unrealistic hope, of course, but the coloring sheets did keep the children occupied through the scripture reading, which was blessing enough. Katherine made a mental note to get Jack to draw something similar for Easter. 

"Please rise for our first hymn," the priest said, and Theo took that as his cue to scramble up onto the wooden pew and beg once more to be held. 

"Theo-bear," Jack said softly, "Mommy's got a baby in her belly, remember? Let me hold you instead." Theo pouted but relented, and Ellie clambered up into the space he'd just vacated, attempting to be helpful by placing her hands underneath the hymnal that Jack and Katherine were sharing. As soon as the first notes of the organ sounded, Nicholas slid off of the pew and popped up to start dancing along, while Theo threw his weight forward and backward in time(mostly) with the rhythm of "Angels We Have Heard On High."

"I love this one, Mommy!" Ellie stage-whispered, singing along as Katherine used her index finger to help Ellie follow the lyrics. 

"Me too, Bunny," Katherine said, placing a kiss on Eleanor's hair. 

The children were familiar with most of the carols that were played that evening-- in addition to learning songs in Sunday School and hearing them repeated in church, both of their parents had a tendency to sing around the apartment, too, and they'd kept Christmas carols in steady rotation since the start of Advent. It was therefore fairly easy to get them to behave during the hymns, especially once they gave up and let Nicholas dance in the aisle, where there was more room for him to wave his arms around. Keeping them quiet during the homily was much harder, but the coloring sheets helped, as did a teenage girl in the pew behind, who entertained Theo for a good five minutes by making faces at him. Even so, Jack and Katherine could tell that their children were about to explode with anticipation by the time the last carol came, and both of them were dreading the idea of having to hand a lit candle to Eleanor. 

"Please rise for Silent Night," the priest said, and Ellie sprang to her feet, gripping the candle firmly with both hands. The organist began the hymn quietly, and the priest lit the candles of two congregants in the front row, who passed the flame to their neighbors, and gradually, magically, the yellow glow of light in winter began to spread throughout the church. Katherine clasped her hands gently around Eleanor's and steadied her fidgety daughter as the man in front of them turned and stooped to light Ellie's small white candle.

Ellie gasped as the candle lit and took a step back to nestle into her mother. "Help me hold it, Mommy?" She whispered, suddenly solemn, her dark brown eyes wide as she looked up at Katherine. 

"Of course, love." 

Nicky reached up to place his hand on Jack's, utterly enchanted by the flame, and, for once in his life, Theo sat still through a song, lost in the lilt and rise of the melody. They sang the final verse a cappella, and Katherine felt her heart swell as she listened to her husband's strong tenor, her daughter's awe, her sons' joy, and the eternal promise and glorious truth of the Lord come to Earth as a baby no bigger than the ones she had birthed and held and loved three times before, a baby no bigger than the child she expected by May of next year. 

"Son of God, love's pure light," she sang, watching the candlelight reflected in Nicholas' eyes and the protective tenderness on Jack's careworn face. As the final notes of the song died away, Katherine smiled, feeling tears start to fall down her cheeks. 

"Don't cry, Mommy!" Nicky said, dropping his hand from Jack's and rushing to hug her. 

"It's okay, Mommy!" Eleanor said, quickly blowing out the candle and hopping up onto the pew to pat her arm and wipe her face. "You're okay!"

"I am, my darlings," she said, kissing their foreheads and continuing to cry. "Thank you. I love you dearly, do you know that? My sweet babies..." she said, pulling them close, thinking of Mary and how fiercely she must have loved her own infant son. "Jesus, Lord at thy birth," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Thank you." 


	25. Growing Together series standalone. Jack/Kath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas morning at the Kellys'.

**December 25, 1914**

Jack woke up to his wife's gentle breaths tickling the nape of his neck. "Mmm," he said, rolling over to face her. 

"Mmm," she mumbled back, her eyes still closed. 

" 'S it Christmas?"

"Yes," she said, tucking her head under his chin. "We stayed up past midnight wrapping presents, so unless we slept a full day --which would be fine by me-- it's Christmas." 

"Merry Christmas, then," Jack said, rubbing her shoulder. 

"Merry Christmas," she replied, her voice soft and tender. 

They lay there for a while, arms wrapped around each other, Jack's feet warm and toasty under the weight of Mitzi the cat. "I can hear Ellie," Jack murmured. 

"She's been up for hours," Katherine yawned. "I got up to pee around four, and I could hear her unwrapping the presents in her stocking. She was making excited little squeaks-- it was adorable."

"I'm impressed she stayed in the nursery like we told her to," Jack said, stroking Katherine's hair. "And that she hasn't woken up the boys." 

"I know," Katherine agreed, thinking of how hard it had been for her as a child, up at the crack of dawn on Christmas, waiting for the clock to strike seven so that she could go wake up her parents. "She really is getting to be the big girl she thinks she is, isn't she?"

Jack sucked in a breath. "I don't wanna think about that this morning, Ace. She's growing up too fast. They all are." 

"Not you, though," Katherine smiled, pressing a kiss to his clavicle. "You're just as young as the day I met you."

"And just as handsome, too, right?"

"Absolutely," she agreed. "Young and handsome and impossibly charming. How did I ever get so lucky?"

"Katherine," he breathed, scooting down on the bed to capture her lips in a kiss. "Katherine, macushla, you mean that? That you think you're lucky to be with me?"

"Of course," she said. "Are you alright?"

"It's just..." He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his stubbled face. "It's been a hard year."

"It has," she said slowly, "But... Well, life is hard for everyone. It's just hard for different people in different ways, is all. And Jack, darling, you really are the love of my life-- you know that, right? There's no one else in the world I'd rather have by my side through the good times and the bad. No one at all. Not now, not ever."

"For sure?"

"For sure." 

"I love you, Ace."

"And I love you." They kissed a moment longer, and then they heard the clock in the living room begin to chime. 

Ellie burst into the bedroom before the seventh bell had even sounded, wearing a haphazardly-clipped poinsettia hairbow and clutching a brand new stuffed animal and her Christmas stocking in her arms. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Eleanor," her parents said, smiling despite their exhaustion. 

"Time for presents!" Ellie sang as she clambered onto the bed.

"I've already got my present," Jack said, kissing Katherine's ear.

Katherine squeezed his hand and sat up to admire the contents of Eleanor's stocking as the little girl laid them out on the bedspread and began explaining them one by one. When Eleanor paused in her recitation to sneeze and blow her nose on her pajama sleeve, Katherine managed to catch Jack's eye. "I've got my present already, too," Katherine said, caressing her husband's cheek. "Merry Christmas, dear heart." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading my advent story calendar to you all! :)

**Author's Note:**

> If there are prompts you have, lemme know!
> 
> ***
> 
> Holiday fic = Complete! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have (had) a wonderful Christmas!


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